• 0

    posted a message on The Realm of Saphriel | Serious Roleplay | Frequent Events | Medieval Fantasy | Great Staff | 1.16.5

    ----OOC Info----

    -Minecraft IGN: Tankinator


    -Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): tankinator15


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

    Been a member of SilverGaming Roleplay community for a while (5 servers approximately) and they seem to tolerate me. I have played lots of D&D and pathfinder, both as a player and a DM. Also do some other character RP occasionally.


    -Define Power-gaming in your own words:


    Powergaming is playing in such a way that takes power away from other people, such as doing everything yourself, not giving people chances to react, being OP, and so on.

    Essentially it’s disrupting RP to give yourself an unfair advantage over others.


    -Define Meta-gaming in your own words:


    Meta-gaming is using information that you know OOC for your benefit IC even though your character should not have that information.

    -Define Role-Playing in your own words:

    Role-playing is acting as a character in certain situations. It’s playing a role in a story.


    ----IC Info----

    -Character name:

    Albert


    -Character race:

    Human


    -Character gender:

    Male


    -Character age:

    79


    -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):

    Albert is a carpenter. He likes to make chairs and carve wood.


    -Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):

    Albert is an old decrepit man. His skin is drooping off of his bones and his head is bald, with small wisps of hair clinging to his scalp with the last of their strength. His hands are arthritis ridden and he has a hunched frame. His eyes look tired, but full of old man wisdom. He has a big mustache adorning his lips.

    His clothes are wrinkled and splotched, and loose fitting, though they look comfortable. He never seems to change his wardrobe, and yet never smells bad. His shoes are surprisingly clean and well-polished. He often walks with a slow, meandering pace, a lost look in his eyes.


    -Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):

    Albert is very non-combative and mild. He loves to talk to people about nearly anything, as long as it’s not very serious, and will offer advice on situations should he see fit. He prefers to avoid conflict and dangerous situations, and when confronted with such, he will do his best to leave or just stay out of the way.

    Albert is old and very fragile. He has trouble moving around most of the time, and can’t fight back should something or someone seek to do him harm. He spends most of his time sitting in places such as taverns talking with patrons or the barkeeper. At night he wanders the streets alone mumbling to himself.

    He nurses an inner sadness that he’s had ever since he lost his wife Lara. He knows there was nothing that could be done, but he misses her greatly. He often talks to his wife’s ghost, or so he thinks. To others it seems he’s talking to himself. He still keeps up with his favorite hobby of woodcarving, and will often carve intricate designs and pictures into furniture and walls. Either as favors or paid work, depending on how he’s feeling.


    -Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):

    Albert closed the door to his home behind him. Time to move on. Lara is dead, and his children are all grown up. They don’t need grandpa anymore. He couldn’t stand this place any longer. Too many memories. Too many things to remind him of how things were. How things had changed. He grunted and started walking.

    Each step made him a little sore, but he could put up with it. He was going to walk until he found someone new. Someplace new. Anything he hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t worried about how his son would react. He left a note. He was essentially dead, so they might as well have a funeral now. He would never be coming back. His soul left with Lara.

    As he walked he picked up a long stick and began carving. That was all he was good at anymore. That’s all he was ever good at, but it made him enough money to get by. Carving chairs, tables, walls, anything. After a few days of walking, he came across a large town. He was out of food, so this would have to do. He gave his walking stick to the guardsman at the gate. The top was a beautiful visage of an eagle.

    This place would be good enough. This will be the place he’ll die.


    -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.

    Albert watched the child flee down the streets and sighed. “Looks like they needed the money eh Lara?” He remarked, drawing a few curious glances at him. He shrugged and kept walking. “As long as I’ve got my knife I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me darling.” He meandered through the crowds towards the tavern. Maybe he’d be able to bum a drink off of someone.


    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.

    Albert watched the wolves for a moment, feeling a pang of sadness. Part of this reminded him of his own family. He wandered over to the trap and tried to pull it open. His bones creaked and his muscles strained. He barely managed to free the wolf, letting it sprint off into the woods. He let the trap snap shut and started walking away, massaging his knuckles.


    Extra notes (Optional, could include theme songs, pictures, etc.):


    Here’s a screenshot of the skin I’ll use.

    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 -|-

    Woo 2nd Try!



    IGN:


    Tankinator


    Do you wish to join our community Skype chat? If so, what is your Skype username? (This is optional):


    Already there


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


    Yep


    What is the definition of “Powergaming”?:


    Powergaming is forcing RP upon others, or just doing things that your character should clearly be unable to do.


    What is the definition of “Metagaming”?:


    Metagaming is the usage of information gained OOC for your benefit IC.


    What is the definition of “Roleplay”?:


    Roleplay taking the role of a character and putting yourself in their shoes.


    Who can use flymod, X-ray and other such clientsided mods?:


    Nobody

    When are you allowed to cause the death of another character?:


    When there is an IC reason to do so, and when the other player is all right with the decision.

    When are you allowed to speak out of character?:


    You may speak OOC when you use the OOC channel, or use double parenthesis (if you are in the IC channel)

    Do you have any previous RP experience, Minecraft or elsewhere? (Optional):


    I’ve been a part of the SG community since Silver Age, and I also do a great deal of Table Top Roleplaying, as well as other text Roleplaying.


    Character Information

    Name: Taggart

    Age: 26

    Race: Human (born in Mistland)

    Physical description: Taggart is a taller man at 5’11’’, He has dark brown hair that is generally unkempt, but not dirty. He doesn’t wear a beard, as he’s never been able to grow one. He is well muscled from years of mercenary work. He’s got scars and scrapes all over his body as souvenirs from many fights. He’s taken great care to make sure none of them mar his face though.

    Screen capture of your skin (I recommend uploading to imgur and posting link here):


    Biography (Minimum 225 words. Most very fleshed-out characters have around 300, but feel free to use even more than that if you wish. Try and avoid clichés such as loved one being killed by bandits or the like):


    Brandon dubiously opened the door to the tavern. He was in one of the seedier parts of town and wasn’t sure what to expect. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and walked inside. Soon after stepping inside, the man wrinkled his nose in disgust. The tavern smelled of stale beer and unwashed men. This was definitely somewhere he didn’t want to be. The patrons were mostly drunk and noisy, filling the building with raucous laughter. A few of the tavern-goes stared curiously at the newcomer. No doubt wondering how much money he had in his purse no doubt.


    Brandon closed the door behind him and moved into the smoke-filled taproom and covered his nose and mouth with a cloth. He looked around for the man he was sent to meet. He was a mercenary, and from what he’d heard a rather good one. And not too expensive. As he scanned the room he saw a man in the corner stand up and wave him over. That’d probably be him.


    “I’ve come from my lord about the job proposition.” Brandon said, taking a seat in front of the mercenary. He was a taller fellow, with dark hair and a stupid grin. “Are you Taggart?”


    Taggart nodded and took a long drink from his flagon. He set it down after what seemed like two minutes and belched loudly. “Sorry bout that pal. You know how it is with ale. Delicious stuff, but hard to keep down. So, you’re the one from Lord whatshisname?” he said flippantly, gesturing vaguely with his free hand.


    “Yes, I’m here from Lord Ka-“


    “Oh!” Taggart interrupted. “I got you a drink too buddy! Here.” He slid he flagon across the table to Brandon.


    “Yes. . .” Brandon said slowly, nudging the drink away from him tentatively. “Drinks aside, I think we have use of someone with your skills.”


    “Which ones? I can do lots of fun things. I can stab, I can shoot a bow, I can climb things, I can break windows, I can break bones. I have also been known to do a nice jig on occasion. That costs extra though.”


    Brandon sighed. He hated dealing with Mistlanders. Dumb country hicks. Every one of them. But this fellow raised a few questions. “How did you manage to learn all of that?”


    “Well, the jigs aren’t hard. Just get everyone drunk enough and it’ll seem like you’re doing the right moves.”


    “No,” Brandon said exasperated. “I meant the other things.”


    “Oh, those, well, when I was a boy I lived in Mistland. You can learn lots of fun tricks down there. Like how to catch three frogs with one fish and a glass bottle. But that’s beside the point. I’ve only found three times to use that. Anyway, I lived there until I was about fifteen years old. Learned to hunt and fight with me pop. Learned to climb trees of my own volition. I left home after my parents died. Mum died of sickness. Cow kicked my pop in the face.”


    “Oh. I’m sorr-“


    “Then, I went to Rinion.” Taggart continued. “Couldn’t get a good job anywhere. Everyone thought I was a fool or something. So I lived on the street. Got real good at stealing and running. And stabbing and running. I was running a lot of the time. Then, I joined a band of mercenaries. Fun fellas they was. Not a bad source of income either. After a few jobs though, I decided to strike out on my own. But enough about me. What’s the job pal?”


    “Right, thanks for that little story by the way. So, my lord wants you to kill a rival of his. He’s tried to best him through political intrigue, but it seems that he’s failed. So, he’d like you to and your men to kill him.”


    Taggart smiled widely. “This is why I like Forezzie. You noble folk are always ready to stick a knife in someone’s ribs. Keeps the little folk like me in work! I mean, your dainty little fingers could hardly hold a dagger I’ll wager!”


    Brandon grimaced and grumbled quietly. “What do you say?”


    “Well, I need to know a few things first? Like are there gonna be dogs? What about kittens? I don’t kill puppies and kittens. I’m not gonna off this fella’s family either. And can I keep whatever loot I find?”


    “There’ll just be some guards. No animals. You just need to kill one person. And please don’t rob anyone. Just murder. Do you understand? I have instructions if you need them.” Then he said under his breath, “not that you could read them anyway.”


    “That’d be lovely! And I’ll take half of the payment now if you please.” Taggart said holding out his hand expectantly.


    Brandon placed a folded piece of parchment and a coin-purse in Taggart’s hand. “If that’s it I think I’ll go.” He said as Taggart looked over the paper. It was upside down.


    “That’ll be all mister. Go back to Lord Whatshisname and tell him his friend will be dead and he’ll be the king of all Forezzie by the end of the week!” Taggart called after Braden as he was leaving. “Pretentious little snot.” He said to nobody in particular, looking over the instructions, now right side up.



    Sometime later, Taggart was talking with his three friends. They were going to be his crew on this mission. There was Melvin, Stuart, and Raike.

    “So, Melvin and Stuart will go in here,” Taggart said pointing at the map provided by Raike. “And I’ll go in through here. Raike will stay and guard here.”


    “I’m still not sure about this Taggart.” Melvin said nervously. “We’ve killed people before, and it wasn’t exactly hard. But this is a Lord! Not some merchant or bandit gang.”


    “Yes, but the pay is nice Melvin.” Taggart said matter-of-factly.


    “Right, that’s all well and nice Taggart, but why should we do this? We can get just as much money by robbing a fat merchant.” Stuart observed.


    “That’s true Stuart. But, imagine it. Us, king-slayers! Bringers of destiny! We shall change the world!” Taggart was standing now holding a clenched fist high above his head.


    Raike sighed. “I can’t stand it when you do this whole,” he gestured vaguely at Taggart. “Dramatic thing.”


    Taggart scoffed and sat down. “The heroes from stories and songs are dramatic. But anyway, are we gonna do this or not?”


    The other men muttered their assent and Taggart smiled happily.



    Taggart nudged open the door to the castle kitchen quietly. He snuck through the room carefully, walking on the balls of his feet, his soft-soled boots making little noise on the stone floor. Taggart moved towards the door at the other end of the room, stopping only to grab a loaf of bread someone had left out. If all was going right, Melvin and Stuart should already be inside.


    Taggart left the kitchen and crept down the corridors, looking for the stairs. The Lord’s room would certainly be near the top. He just had to figure out where. As he walked down the hall, he heard shouting coming from the courtyard. Something had gone wrong. Taggart was about to dash down the stairs when he heard metal-shod feet tramping his way. They couldn’t be that hard to dispatch, it sounded like there couldn’t be more than 3 of them. Taggart shook his head. He didn’t want to kill more people than he had to tonight. He was in a good mood, and didn’t want to ruin the evening for more people than necessary. He opened the nearest door and stepped inside.


    The inhabitants of the room were awake and shouted with surprise when Taggart stepped inside. Taggart quickly moved a nearby chair under the door and looked at his new friends. It was clearly the man he was sent to kill and his wife. Judging by the gaudy decorations in the room. “Sorry about that sir.” Taggart said politely nodding his head.


    “Who are you?” the lord said angrily. His clenched fists shaking.


    “I’m Taggart. I’m a mercenary who was sent to kill you. It’s not personal mind you. A man’s gotta make a living after all.” Taggart shrugged. “I think something went wrong though, so I’m more concerned with leaving than defenestrating you.”


    “What?”


    “Defenestration. It’s throwing someone out of a window good sir. I thought that it would be a rather fun way to kill you. Less messy than sticking you with a sword, and you can tell all your friends what fun you had on your way down!”


    Both the lord and his wife looked confused now. “Wh- who send you to kill us?” he asked uncertainly.


    “Oh, some fellow with a grumpy messenger boy. Said you were a rival of his. Also said that he tried to beat you through good-ol-fashion politics. I could never get the hang of that stuff. I’m more of a fighter myself anyway. Just point me in the right direction.”


    “You will die, you know that right?” the lord said, his voice cold as ice.


    `“Well, now that’s something I’ve heard many times. But, not today. I’ve got a pressing engagement elsewhere.” Taggart said moving to the window. “Sorry for disturbing your rest m’lady.” He said nodding to the lord’s wife. “I’ll just leave this here though.” He said kindly putting his instructions on the floor. And with that, he climbed out the window and was gone.



    It was sometime later when Taggart found Melvin in a back alley. His friend was bleeding from a large cut on his left arm and a stab wound to the stomach. “The guards were onto us Taggart. They knew we were coming.” He said seriously.


    “Did they get Stuart?” Taggart inquired, looking very worried.


    Melvin nodded. “A man with a halberd jumped out from around a corner and stabbed him in the chest. Then he took off his head.” Melvin sobbed. “Then a sneaky little guy got me in the stomach. I got both of them back though.” He said with steel in his voice. “Did you kill the guy?”


    Taggart shook his head. “I didn’t get the chance.” He lied. “Stuart was a good friend. It’s sad to see him go. Have you seen Raike?”

    Melvin opened his mouth to answer when there was a voice at the end of the alley. “There they are!” Several armed soldiers appeared in the narrow space began to file after them. Melvin started to run when he was struck with an arrow in the back. He fell to the ground, blood spurting from his mouth as he cried out. “Run!”


    Taggart nodded and ran. He dashed through the streets and alleys, trying to throw off his pursuers. After an hour he had finally lost them. He leaned against a building, breathing heavily. After he had caught his breath, he realized he had no idea where he was. This city was big, and he was relatively new. He sighed and began climbing up the side of the building.


    “Well, well, well. Looks like I’ve found the last one.” Raike said. “You led those soldiers on a merry little chase. You’re not going to escape me though.”


    Taggart looked at him in shock. “What? What are you talking about?”


    “I mean I’m going to kill you can collect a reward. It’s simple. I already helped kill the other guys. So I might as well finish the job.” Raike said calmly.


    “You perfidious fiend!” Taggart shouted his hand going to his short-sword at his side.



    “What?” Raike asked, lowering his sword slightly.


    “It means you’re a traitorous scumbag.”


    “Where did you learn all of these words!?” Raike screamed, becoming very angry. “Where did a Mistland hick like you learn to read!?”


    Taggart grimaced and moved his hand away from his sword and started to draw his bow. “I snuck into some classes while I was in Rinion. Learned lots of things. I just play the fool sometimes. Now why did you betray us?” He growled angrily.


    “The pay was very good. Better than the pay for killing him. So after we finished planning I went and talked to your target. He was very accommodating. Not like I cared about you anyway. You’re just another lost Mistlander. Far from home, with no family. Nobody would care if you died anyway. And, to top it all off you’re a killer. I’d be doing a service.”


    “I don’t just kill Raike,” Taggart said trying to hold back his rage. “I steal and rob and loot and beat.” Taggart said flashing a quick grin. But I also protect, and guard, and help. I do what I’m paid to do.”


    “How can you be so annoying at a time like this?” Raike demanded. “I’m about to kill you, and you have the nerve to crack a joke and act like a dramatic hero.”


    “Oh, it’s easy you just do this. “ Taggart quickly nocked an arrow and fired it at Raike. The arrow struck the surprised man in the thigh and he cried out in pain. Taggart quickly nocked another arrow and fired, hitting his former comrade in the chest. Raike fell to the down and lay silent.


    Taggart walked over to his opponent and nudged him with his foot. Raike made a quiet gurgling sound as blood welled up in his mouth and leaked out of his chest, running down the roof onto the ground below. “That settles that I suppose.” Taggart looked at the sleeping city’s skyline and got his bearings. Satisfied that he’d found his way back to the tavern, Taggart climbed down the wall to the street and walked back in the now quiet night. Devoid of all sound except Taggart’s quiet footsteps and the blood dripping off the rooftop.


    Taggart had hardly made it a block away from where he had killed Raike before he was attacked. Two soldiers turned around a corner and saw him. Normally, that wouldn’t have been an issue, but these two had probably been chasing Taggart before, since were now running him with their weapons drawn.


    Taggart swore angrily and drew his short-sword. The first soldier reached Taggart and swung at his neck with a sword. Taggart ducked underneath the attack and thrust at his attacker. The man cried out in pain and stepped back, holding a hand to his chest, right beneath the ribcage. The second man came at Taggart with a spear.


    The soldier thrust forward and Taggart dodged away from the attack. Taggart stepped forward and tried to slash at the man’s throat, but he jumped back, and started to circle around Taggart, his spear held at the ready. The other soldier returned to the fray, wielding his sword with his free arm. His other arm still held to his wound.


    Taggart parried the attack and struck back, his sword sliding between the man’s ribs and passing through his heart. The soldier stiffened and slide off of the blade, as Taggart turned to face the other solider. That turn saved his life. The man had thrust forward with a shout of rage and hit Taggart in the side. Had he not turned the thrust would’ve killed him.


    Taggart grunted in pain and threw his sword at the remaining soldier. The blade buried itself in the man’s shoulder. He stepped back and tried to remove the weapon lodged in him. Taggart took this opportunity to remove the spear in his side. He groaned as the blade left him, blood spurting from his wound. Great, another scar. Taggart turned the spear around and reversed his grip. He lifted the weapon into the air and threw the spear like a javelin. It wasn’t a strong throw, and it wasn’t very accurate, and thus the spear grazed the soldier, scratching his armor.


    The soldier removed the sword and tossed it aside, then retrieved the spear. Taggart looked at him in dismay and tried to run, swearing about losing his sword. Taggart wasn’t very fast, and it wasn’t hard for the soldier to catch him. Taggart stumbled on a loose stone on the road and fell over, unintentionally dodging the spear thrust that would’ve pierced his back. The soldier, expecting to hit something, was thrown off balance by his thrust. He too fell and he and Taggart lay on the road in a tangled mass.


    The fight wasn’t an easy one for either party. The soldier’s shoulder hurt, and Taggart’s side was bleeding profusely. They rolled around for a bit, trying to strangle each other. The soldier managed to wrap his hands around Taggart’s throat, and began to squeeze.


    Taggart tried in vain to punch the soldier off of him, gasping for breath. His punches did nothing, and he was starting to lose consciousness. He scrabbled at the soldier’s belt for a weapon. Anything would be good. His hand wrapped around the hilt of a dagger and he pulled it from it’s scabbard. He brought it up to the soldier’s neck and thrust several times, puncturing the side of his neck, and spraying blood everywhere.


    The soldier feel limp and Taggart struggled to get out from under him. When he was free, he retrieved his sword and started to limp down the road. A doctor he knew lived close by. They would help him. As he lurched through the doorway, he called out for help and collapsed.


    He woke several hours later. His wound had been cleaned and bandaged. The doctor wasn’t there right now, but that would change. He had to get out of this city though. Taggart knew there would be guards after him. Taggart looked for his clothes and got dressed, wincing in pain. His clothes had been cleaned and mended. He took his coin-purse and put a good amount of money on a table, collected his things, and left.


    He had to go somewhere, but where? There was very few places he could go where they wouldn’t try to catch or kill him. St. Jessica? No, too religious. They wouldn’t like him there. Alann? He’d probably stab some elves as soon as he crossed the border. That wouldn’t do. Nobody wanted a Mistlander. Enris! That was it. Nobody in their right mind would go there. The resurgence of undead would be enough to keep people away. People would probably like his skills there too. Maybe he could get payed to help people for the first time in years.


    Taggart made his way to the docks. He would be able to stow away on a ship bound for Enris. He knew someone would help him escape. A few days later, Taggart was riding in the cargo hold of a merchant vessel. The gentle sway of the ship as it made its way west making him sick. Taggart thought of his friends and their betrayal. He choked back tears and held his side. This won’t do. He was a warrior. A tough man. A tough man shouldn’t cry like this. It was unbecoming. The last time he cried was as a boy. He was older now. He was a man now. He was a warrior now.

    What is your character’s main goal? (Motivation):


    Taggart’s main goal is to survive and make a living. He mostly wants to help people, but he will do what he’s paid to do, sometimes.


    Strengths (Both physical and personality):


    Taggart is a warrior. He knows how to fight with a few different kinds of weapons, but his favorites are short-swords and Bows. He can also climb well, and run very fast. He tries to look on the bright side of everything, and tries to find a little joy in everything. He also tries to be as helpful to people as possible. Assuming they don’t get on his bad-side.


    Weaknesses (Balance out yours character's strengths with suitable weaknesses. Not knowing how to do something that is outside of your class is not a weakness. I.E. Not knowing how to use a bow as a miner.):


    Taggart is not a very diplomatic person. He can be very blunt, which often leads him into trouble. He’s also very foolhardy, and has a difficult time taking some situations seriously. He is allergic to sea-food. And he is afraid of cows.


    He has a bad temper, especially when people bring up his Mistland heritage (Only when used in the negative, otherwise he’s very proud about it). He also can’t stand people that treat him like dirt because of his social status.


    Taggart is also the victim of crippling stomach pains, due to an arrow wound. These pains have been known to bring him to his knees for sometimes hours on end. In addition to these stomach pains Taggart suffers from migraines, due to many hard blows to his head.


    What is your character's personality? (Optional; use this field to note character traits that you feel don't fit into either strengths or weaknesses if you wish):


    Taggart tries to look at the bright side of life. He feels that if you are going to die one day, might as well make what time you have left a little fun. Because of this, he tries to crack jokes whenever her can. Sometimes at the expense of others, or himself. His humor can at times be misinterpreted as arrogance at times, but he doesn’t care. Taggart can be open and friendly to strangers, but he feels that first impressions are very important, and will judge people based off of that. Taggart is very confident in his abilities and won’t shirk from a fight. But despite this, he has a sensitive side, that he is very reluctant to show anyone. Taggart also abides by a strict code of honor that only he seems to know. He often contradicts himself.


    Bonus Language (Caro is free):

    Mistland.


    Character Traits

    Simple Weapons: 1

    Martial Weapons: 1

    Ranged Weapons: 1

    Light armor: 1

    Acrobat: 1

    Climber: 1

    Cross-country Runner: 1

    Total : 7

    Human Bonus Trait: Roll

    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 -|-

    IGN:


    Tankinator


    Do you wish to join our community Skype chat? If so, what is your Skype username? (This is optional):


    Already there


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


    Yep


    What is the definition of “Powergaming”?:


    Powergaming is forcing RP upon others, or just doing things that your character should clearly be unable to do.


    What is the definition of “Metagaming”?:


    Metagaming is the usage of information gained OOC for your benefit IC.


    What is the definition of “Roleplay”?:


    Roleplay taking the role of a character and putting yourself in their shoes.


    Who can use flymod, X-ray and other such clientsided mods?:


    Nobody


    When are you allowed to cause the death of another character?:


    When there is an IC reason to do so, and when the other player is all right with the decision.


    When are you allowed to speak out of character?:


    You may speak OOC when you use the OOC channel, or use double parenthesis (if you are in the IC channel)


    Do you have any previous RP experience, Minecraft or elsewhere? (Optional):


    I’ve been a part of the SG community since Silver Age, and I also do a great deal of Table Top Roleplaying, as well as other text Roleplaying.


    Character Information


    Name: Taggart


    Age: 26


    Race: Human (born in Mistland)


    Physical description: Taggart is a taller man at 5’11’’, He has dark brown hair that is generally unkempt, but not dirty. He doesn’t wear a beard, as he’s never been able to grow one. He is well muscled from years of mercenary work. He’s got scars and scrapes all over his body as souvenirs from many fights. He’s taken great care to make sure none of them mar his face though.


    Screen capture of your skin (I recommend uploading to imgur and posting link here):



    Biography (Minimum 225 words. Most very fleshed-out characters have around 300, but feel free to use even more than that if you wish. Try and avoid clichés such as loved one being killed by bandits or the like):


    Brandon dubiously opened the door to the tavern. He was in one of the seedier parts of town and wasn’t sure what to expect. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and walked inside. Soon after stepping inside, the man wrinkled his nose in disgust. The tavern smelled of stale beer and unwashed men. This was definitely somewhere he didn’t want to be. The patrons were mostly drunk and noisy, filling the building with raucous laughter. A few of the tavern-goes stared curiously at the newcomer. No doubt wondering how much money he had in his purse no doubt.

    Brandon closed the door behind him and moved into the smoke-filled taproom and covered his nose and mouth with a cloth. He looked around for the man he was sent to meet. He was a mercenary, and from what he’d heard a rather good one. And not too expensive. As he scanned the room he saw a man in the corner stand up and wave him over. That’d probably be him.


    “I’ve come from my lord about the job proposition.” Brandon said, taking a seat in front of the mercenary. He was a taller fellow, with dark hair and a stupid grin. “Are you Taggart?”


    Taggart nodded and took a long drink from his flagon. He set it down after what seemed like two minutes and belched loudly. “Sorry bout that pal. You know how it is with ale. Delicious stuff, but hard to keep down. So, you’re the one from Lord whatshisname?” he said flippantly, gesturing vaguely with his free hand.


    “Yes, I’m here from Lord Ka-“


    “Oh!” Taggart interrupted. “I got you a drink too buddy! Here.” He slid he flagon across the table to Brandon.


    “Yes. . .” Brandon said slowly, nudging the drink away from him tentatively. “Drinks aside, I think we have use of someone with your skills.”


    “Which ones? I can do lots of fun things. I can stab, I can shoot a bow, I can climb things, I can break windows, I can break bones. I have also been known to do a nice jig on occasion. That costs extra though.”


    Brandon sighed. He hated dealing with Mistlanders. Dumb country hicks. Every one of them. But this fellow raised a few questions. “How did you manage to learn all of that?”


    “Well, the jigs aren’t hard. Just get everyone drunk enough and it’ll seem like you’re doing the right moves.”


    “No,” Brandon said exasperated. “I meant the other things.”


    “Oh, those, well, when I was a boy I lived in Mistland. You can learn lots of fun tricks down there. Like how to catch three frogs with one fish and a glass bottle. But that’s beside the point. I’ve only found three times to use that. Anyway, I lived there until I was about fifteen years old. Learned to hunt and fight with me pop. Learned to climb trees of my own volition. I left home after my parents died. Mum died of sickness. Goat kicked my pop in the face.”


    “Oh. I’m sorr-“


    “Then, I went to Rinion.” Taggart continued. “Couldn’t get a good job anywhere. Everyone thought I was a fool or something. So I lived on the street. Got real good at stealing and running. And stabbing and running. I was running a lot of the time. Then, I joined a band of mercenaries. Fun fellas they was. Not a bad source of income either. After a few jobs though, I decided to strike out on my own. But enough about me. What’s the job pal?”


    “Right, thanks for that little story by the way. So, my lord wants you to kill a rival of his. He’s tried to best him through political intrigue, but it seems that he’s failed. So, he’d like you to and your men to kill him.”


    Taggart smiled widely. “This is why I like Forezzie. You noble folk are always ready to stick a knife in someone’s ribs. Keeps the little folk like me in work! I mean, your dainty little fingers could hardly hold a dagger I’ll wager!”


    Brandon grimaced and grumbled quietly. “What do you say?”


    “Well, I need to know a few things first? Like are there gonna be dogs? What about kittens? I don’t kill puppies and kittens. I’m not gonna off this fella’s family either. And can I keep whatever loot I find?”


    “There’ll just be some guards. No animals. You just need to kill one person. And please don’t rob anyone. Just murder. Do you understand? I have instructions if you need them.” Then he said under his breath, “not that you could read them anyway.”


    “That’d be lovely! And I’ll take half of the payment now if you please.” Taggart said holding out his hand expectantly.

    Brandon placed a folded piece of parchment and a coin-purse in Taggart’s hand. “If that’s it I think I’ll go.” He said as Taggart looked over the paper. It was upside down.


    “That’ll be all mister. Go back to Lord Whatshisname and tell him his friend will be dead and he’ll be the king of all Forezzie by the end of the week!” Taggart called after Braden as he was leaving. “Pretentious little snot.” He said to nobody in particular, looking over the instructions, now right side up.


    Sometime later, Taggart was talking with his three friends. They were going to be his crew on this mission. There was Melvin, Stuart, and Raike.

    “So, Melvin and Stuart will go in here,” Taggart said pointing at the map provided by Raike. “And I’ll go in through here. Raike will stay and guard here.”


    “I’m still not sure about this Taggart.” Melvin said nervously. “We’ve killed people before, and it wasn’t exactly hard. But this is a Lord! Not some merchant or bandit gang.”


    “Yes, but the pay is nice Melvin.” Taggart said matter-of-factly.


    “Right, that’s all well and nice Taggart, but why should we do this? We can get just as much money by robbing a fat merchant.” Stuart observed.


    “That’s true Stuart. But, imagine it. Us, king-slayers! Bringers of destiny! We shall change the world!” Taggart was standing now holding a clenched fist high above his head.


    Raike sighed. “I can’t stand it when you do this whole,” he gestured vaguely at Taggart. “Dramatic thing.”


    Taggart scoffed and sat down. “The heroes from stories and songs are dramatic. But anyway, are we gonna do this or not?”


    The other men muttered their assent and Taggart smiled happily.


    Taggart nudged open the door to the castle kitchen quietly. He snuck through the room carefully, walking on the balls of his feet, his soft-soled boots making little noise on the stone floor. Taggart moved towards the door at the other end of the room, stopping only to grab a loaf of bread someone had left out. If all was going right, Melvin and Stuart should already be inside.


    Taggart left the kitchen and crept down the corridors, looking for the stairs. The Lord’s room would certainly be near the top. He just had to figure out where. As he walked down the hall, he heard shouting coming from the courtyard. Something had gone wrong. Taggart was about to dash down the stairs when he heard metal-shod feet tramping his way. They couldn’t be that hard to dispatch, it sounded like there couldn’t be more than 3 of them. Taggart shook his head. He didn’t want to kill more people than he had to tonight. He was in a good mood, and didn’t want to ruin the evening for more people than necessary. He opened the nearest door and stepped inside.


    The inhabitants of the room were awake and shouted with surprise when Taggart stepped inside. Taggart quickly moved a nearby chair under the door and looked at his new friends. It was clearly the man he was sent to kill and his wife. Judging by the gaudy decorations in the room. “Sorry about this sir.” Taggart said politely nodding his head.


    “Who are you?” the lord said angrily. His clenched fists shaking.


    “I’m Taggart. I’m a mercenary who was sent to kill you. It’s not personal mind you. A man’s gotta make a living after all.” Taggart shrugged. “I think something went wrong though, so I’m more concerned with leaving than defenestrating you.”


    “What?”


    “Defenestration. It’s throwing someone out of a window good sir. I thought that it would be a rather fun way to kill you. Less messy than sticking you with a sword, and you can tell all your friends what fun you had on your way down!”


    Both the lord and his wife looked confused now. “Wh- who send you to kill us?” he asked uncertainly.


    “Oh, some fellow with a grumpy messenger boy. Said you were a rival of his. Also said that he tried to beat you through good-ol-fashion politics. I could never get the hang of that stuff. I’m more of a fighter myself anyway. Just point me in the right direction.”


    “You will die, you know that right?” the lord said, his voice cold as ice.


    `“Well, now that’s something I’ve heard many times. But, not today. I’ve got a pressing engagement elsewhere.” Taggart said moving to the window. “Sorry for disturbing your rest m’lady.” He said nodding to the lord’s wife. “I’ll just leave this here though.” He said kindly putting his instructions on the floor. And with that, he climbed out the window and was gone.


    It was sometime later when Taggart found Melvin in a back alley. His friend was bleeding from a large cut on his left arm and a stab wound to the stomach. “The guards were onto us Taggart. They knew we were coming.” He said seriously.


    “Did they get Stuart?” Taggart inquired, looking very worried.


    Melvin nodded. “A man with a halberd jumped out from around a corner and stabbed him in the chest. Then he took off his head.” Melvin sobbed. “Then a sneaky little guy got me in the stomach. I got both of them back though.” He said with steel in his voice. “Did you kill the guy?”


    Taggart shook his head. “I didn’t get the chance.” He lied. “Stuart was a good friend. It’s sad to see him go. Have you seen Raike?”


    Melvin opened his mouth to answer when there was a voice at the end of the alley. “There they are!” Several armed soldiers appeared in the narrow space began to file after them. Melvin started to run when he was struck with an arrow in the back. He fell to the ground, blood spurting from his mouth as he cried out. “Run!”


    Taggart nodded and ran. He dashed through the streets and alleys, trying to throw off his pursuers. After an hour he had finally lost them. He leaned against a building, breathing heavily. After he had caught his breath, he realized he had no idea where he was. This city was big, and he was relatively new. He sighed and began climbing up the side of the building.


    “Well, well, well. Looks like I’ve found the last one.” Raike said. “You led those soldiers on a merry little chase. You’re not going to escape me though.”


    Taggart looked at him in shock. “What? What are you talking about?”


    “I mean I’m going to kill you can collect a reward. It’s simple. I already helped kill the other guys. So I might as well finish the job.” Raike said calmly.


    “You perfidious fiend!” Taggart shouted his hand going to his short-sword at his side.


    “Where did you learn all of these words!?” Raike said equally loud, becoming very angry. “Where did a Mistland hick like you learn to read!?”


    Taggart grimaced and moved his hand away from his sword and started to draw his bow. “I snuck into some classes while I was in Rinion. Learned lots of things. I just play the fool sometimes. Now why did you betray us?” He growled angrily.


    “The pay was very good. Better than the pay for killing him. So after we finished planning I went and talked to your target. He was very accommodating. Not like I cared about you anyway. You’re just another lost Mistlander. Far from home, with no family. Nobody would care if you died anyway. And, to top it all off you’re a killer. I’d be doing a service.”


    “I don’t just kill Raike,” Taggart said trying to hold back his rage. “I steal and rob and loot and beat.” Taggart said flashing a quick grin. But I also protect, and guard, and help. I do what I’m paid to do.”


    “How can you be so annoying at a time like this?” Raike demanded. “I’m about to kill you, and you have the nerve to crack a joke and act like a dramatic hero.”


    “Oh, it’s easy you just do this. “ Taggart quickly nocked an arrow and fired it at Raike. The arrow struck the surprised man in the thigh and he cried out in pain. Taggart quickly nocked another arrow and fired, hitting his former comrade in the chest. Raike fell to the down and lay silent.


    Taggart walked over to his opponent and nudged him with his foot. Raike made a quiet gurgling sound as blood welled up in his mouth and leaked out of his chest, running down the roof onto the ground below. “That settles that I suppose.” Taggart looked at the sleeping city’s skyline and got his bearings. Satisfied that he’d found his way back to the tavern, Taggart climbed down the wall to the street and walked back in the now quiet night. Devoid of all sound except Taggart’s quiet footsteps and the blood dripping off the rooftop.


    Taggart had hardly made it a block away from where he had killed Raike before he was attacked. Two soldiers turned around a corner and saw him. Normally, that wouldn’t have been an issue, but these two had probably been chasing Taggart before, since were now running him with their weapons drawn.


    Taggart swore angrily and drew his short-sword. The first soldier reached Taggart and swung at his neck with a sword. Taggart ducked underneath the attack and thrust at his attacker. The man cried out in pain and stepped back, holding a hand to his chest, right beneath the ribcage. The second man came at Taggart with a spear.


    The soldier thrust forward and Taggart dodged away from the attack. Taggart stepped forward and tried to slash at the man’s throat, but he jumped back, and started to circle around Taggart, his spear held at the ready. The other soldier returned to the fray, wielding his sword with his free arm. His other arm still held to his wound.


    Taggart parried the attack and struck back, his sword sliding between the man’s ribs and passing through his heart. The soldier stiffened and slide off of the blade, as Taggart turned to face the other solider. That turn saved his life. The man had thrust forward with a shout of rage and hit Taggart in the side. Had he not turned the thrust would’ve killed him.


    Taggart grunted in pain and threw his sword at the remaining soldier. The blade buried itself in the man’s shoulder. He stepped back and tried to remove the weapon lodged in him. Taggart took this opportunity to remove the spear in his side. He groaned as the blade left him, blood spurting from his wound. Great, another scar. Taggart turned the spear around and reversed his grip. He lifted the weapon into the air and threw the spear like a javelin. It wasn’t a strong throw, but he was close, and the spearhead burrowed into the soldier, throwing him back onto the ground.


    Taggart weakly retrieved his sword and heard shouting down the street. He quickly ducked into an alley, his vision hazy. He had to get to a healer and fast. It seemed like an eternity before he found someone he could trust. He limped through the door and called out. Then he promptly blacked out.


    He woke several hours later. His wound had been cleaned and bandaged. The doctor wasn’t there right now, but that would change. He had to get out of this city though. Taggart knew there would be guards after him. Taggart looked for his clothes and got dressed, wincing in pain. His clothes had been cleaned and mended. He took his coin-purse and put a good amount of money on a table, collected his things, and left.


    He had to go somewhere, but where? There was very few places he could go where they wouldn’t try to catch or kill him. St. Jessica? No, too religious. They wouldn’t like him there. Alann? He’d probably stab some elves as soon as he crossed the border. That wouldn’t do. Nobody wanted a Mistlander. Enris! That was it. Nobody in their right mind would go there. The resurgence of undead would be enough to keep people away. People would probably like his skills there too. Maybe he could get payed to help people for the first time in years.


    Taggart made his way to the docks. He would be able to stow away on a ship bound for Enris. He knew someone would help him escape. A few days later, Taggart was riding in the cargo hold of a merchant vessel. The gentle sway of the ship as it made its way west making him sick. Taggart thought of his friends and their betrayal. He choked back tears and held his side. This won’t do. He was a warrior. A tough man. A tough man shouldn’t cry like this. It was unbecoming. The last time he cried was as a boy. He was older now. He was a man now. He was a warrior now.


    What is your character’s main goal? (Motivation):


    Taggart’s main goal is to survive and make a living. He mostly wants to help people, but he will do what he’s paid to do, sometimes.


    Strengths (Both physical and personality):


    Taggart is a warrior. He knows how to fight with a few different kinds of weapons, but his favorites are short-swords and Bows. He can also climb well, and run very fast. He tries to look on the bright side of everything, and tries to find a little joy in everything. He also tries to be as helpful to people as possible. Assuming they don’t get on his bad-side.


    Weaknesses (Balance out yours character's strengths with suitable weaknesses. Not knowing how to do something that is outside of your class is not a weakness. I.E. Not knowing how to use a bow as a miner.):


    Taggart is not a very diplomatic person. He can be very blunt, which often leads him into trouble. He’s also very foolhardy, and has a difficult time taking some situations seriously. He is allergic to sea-food. And he is afraid of goats. He also has a bad temper, especially when people bring up his Mistland heritage (Only when used in the negative, otherwise he’s very proud about it). He also can’t stand people that treat him like dirt because of his social status. He often contradicts himself


    What is your character's personality? (Optional; use this field to note character traits that you feel don't fit into either strengths or weaknesses if you wish):


    Taggart tries to look at the bright side of life. He feels that if you are going to die one day, might as well make what time you have left a little fun. Because of this, he tries to crack jokes whenever her can. Sometimes at the expense of others, or himself. His humor can at times be misinterpreted as arrogance at times, but he doesn’t care. Taggart can be open and friendly to strangers, but he feels that first impressions are very important, and will judge people based off of that. Taggart is very confident in his abilities and won’t shirk from a fight. But despite this, he has a sensitive side, that he is very reluctant to show anyone. Taggart also abides by a strict code of honor that only he seems to know.


    Bonus Language (Caro is free):


    Mistland.


    Character Traits

    Simple Weapons: 1

    Martial Weapons: 1

    Ranged Weapons: 1

    Light armor: 1

    Acrobat: 1

    Climber: 1

    Cross-country Runner: 1

    Total : 7

    Human Bonus Trait: Roll

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on THE WAYWARD ONES [PLAYER-DRIVEN-STORY] [EXTENSIVE LORE] [CUSTOM PLUGINS]
    Out of Character InformationIGN:
    Tankinator

    Do you wish to join our community Skype chat? If so, what is your Skype username? (This is optional):
    I believe you already have this. :D

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

    What is the definition of “Powergaming”?:
    Powergaming it the forcing of RP onto another player without giving them a chance to respond. Or in some cases, avoiding unavoidable RP in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Such as; “*Jim, who has been undetected for a while, fires an arrow out of the shadows at Dave’s back.* *Dave dodges the arrow.*”

    hat is the definition of “Metagaming”?:
    Metagaming is the usage of OOC knowledge IC to advance your character’s goals or give yourself an advantage over others.

    What is the definition of “Roleplay”?:
    Roleplaying is when you play out a characters actions, thoughts, and behaviors in certain circumstances to tell a story.

    Who can use flymod, X-ray and other such clientsided mods?:
    Everyone. Naw I’m kidding, nobody. Well, I suppose someone could, assuming they can survive Hit from a Banhammer. Which as far as I’m concerned, causes instant doom.

    When are you allowed to cause the death of another character?:You are allowed to cause the death of another character when it makes sense in context and they are ok with it. You may also need a VAA/VA

    When are you allowed to speak out of character?:
    You are allowed to Speak OOC in ((these)) or in the OOC channel. ((These should probably only be used to answer any questions or address any concerns IC))

    Do you have any previous RP experience, Minecraft or elsewhere?
    I have had almost two years of Minecraft RP server experience as well as a few RPGs of the Table Top Variety.

    Character Information
    Name:
    Tristan Whitefield

    Age:
    20

    Class:
    Swordsman/craftsman

    Physical description:
    Tristan is a somewhat scrawny, thin average height young man. He has brown hair and brown eyes. He has a very serious demeanor usually. His facial features are very smooth and he is clean shaven. He keeps his face well groomed.Screen capture of your skin: Biography (Minimum 300 words. No clichés such as loved one being killed by robbers or the like.):
    “*Scrawled in a Journal*
    My Name is Tristan Whitefield. I am the son of Robert and Sarah Whitefield. I am writing this for the scholars who may come later in the future who desire to know the lives of us living now. I know how valuable such accounts can be. I grew up in a very wealthy family. We lived in the Capitol of Braxia. My father is still living there. My father and my mother both worked for the Braxian Academic Enclave, a private community of Scholars and Scientists, dedicated to bringing the light of knowledge upon the face of the planet.

    They both started me along this path when I was very young. I had a natural aptitude for learning, and I quickly managed to take up much of what they taught me. Whether it was mathematics or history. My father also taught me some fencing, as he saw that it was a gentlemen’s sport. My parents cared for me as well as act as some of my private instructors. It all changed though during the winter after my seventh birthday. My mother Sarah left, and to this day I am unsure why.

    I can say that there was a noticeable change in my father. He became much more reclusive and strict. He seemed to stop loving me as his son, and saw me more as another tool to be used. He started to have less time for me as well, so he hired a select group of tutors and mentors to teach me my academics and swordplay. I was unable to leave the house too, for fear that the other children my age would interfere with my studies. When we did have some time together, he would test me on all that I had learned, and when I got something wrong, he would beat me.

    After a year of this, I asked him, “Father, do you love me anymore? And why can’t I play with the other children outside?” He responded in a most calm manner to this inquiry, as if he had had a lot of time to think about the answer. “Love is useless boy. It just gets in the way of work. You don’t need it. And you shouldn’t need to socialize with those simpletons. True value is in intelligence. Only people with that deserve your respect or time. I’ll teach that to you soon enough, then you can truly reach your potential.” And that he did. I soon saw how pointless love and friendship were. They were just distractions, meant to draw ones attention from what is truly important. And I saw how foolish much of the world really was.

    A few years passed, and I left my luxurious home to go to a town that is known as Roland’s Field. There is a group of settlers there, and they are heading to a new land to colonize. I feel that this is what I was meant for. I am going to this new land for the Braxian Academic Enclave to record what happens, and what we find so that we may pass it on to future generations.”

    What is your character’s main goal? (Motivation):
    He wishes to keep an account of everything and make his way into history.

    Strengths (Both physical and personality):
    Tristan is an academic genius. He is proficient in many fields such as history, archaeology and anthropology, mathematics, language arts and some sciences. He is also a very proficient fencer.

    Weaknesses (Balance out yours character's strengths with suitable weaknesses. Not knowing how to do something that is outside of your class is not a weakness. I.E. Not knowing how to use a bow as a miner.):
    Tristan has absolutely no social skills. He does not know how to make friends, and he feels that friendship and love are next to useless. Only slightly above mosquitoes. He is tactlessly blunt and can come across as quite rude. He is also very used to living in a comfortable home. He is also very afraid of being wrong, as a result of his father beating him as a child. He also seems rather aloof at times, especially if he feels if you are less-intelligent than he is. And though he is a proficient fencer, he has no real combat experience

    .In-Character-Responses (ICRs. For each scenario, write at least a paragraph describing entirely in-character how your character would respond to the situation. Your ICRs will be used to see how well you can RP. Please post them as if in IC chat. An example can be found after this form.)

    Due a recent accident, you wander the dark quiet streets of the town with a broken ankle trying to make your way home:
    Tristan bit back a curse behind his teeth as he hobbled along the dark road. “Who leaves their stairs in such disrepair? I’ll have to have a few words with that librarian,” he muttered to himself while limping down the road. “I’ll probably have to get a doctor to look at my ankle. I can’t walk very well in these conditions.”

    “Then I suppose that means you can’t run away very well either,” a voice called from a nearby alleyway. Tristan looked at the direction of the voice as a man stepped forward wielding a large rusty dagger. The man’s face was dirty and unkempt, and he looked like he was ready for a fight. “I want all your coin and jewelry, and you won’t be hurt. Understand pal?”

    Tristan eyed the man for a moment and sighed loudly. “I do not have time for this. If you want coin, get it the way everyone else does.” He started to hobble away when he heard footsteps coming towards him. He reached down into his bag for a large tome he was borrowing from the Library.

    The man put his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “That was the wrong answer friend. Now you are going to have to pay wit-.” The man was quickly cut off by a book landing in his face. He staggered back and regained his wits in time to hear his intended victim shouting for the guards. He looked at the man and pointed an angry finger. “You haven’t seen the end of me pal. Next time you walk down here you are a dead man!” He turned and fled.

    Tristan looked down at his book. “Great. Now I have to pay for that too.” He used the end of his sleeve to try to wipe off a few drops of blood on the cover. As he did so he almost completely forgot about his leg and tripped and landed on his face after his first step. Right as the guards arrived.

    In a tavern, a stranger threatens you to fight him/her:
    Tristan sat in the back corner of a tavern, away from all of the usual commotion and patrons, with a cup of water and a piece of warm bread, his face buried in a book. He didn’t notice the man approach, and if he had, he wouldn’t have paid him any attention. He did take notice of the man once the book was wrenched from his grasp and flung across the room.

    “Hey buddy,” the man, who was obviously drunk slurred. “I, I-I’m going to fight, y-you.” He drunkenly pointed towards the bar, while trying to put his arm around Tristan’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “See my friend *hic* Tom over there? He, he says I, I can’t *hic* beat a l-little guy like y-*hic* you in a fight. I-I’m not one fo-for losing *hic*.”

    Tristan slapped the man’s hand away before his arm went around his shoulder. “I don’t have time for fighting. I was doing some research, which, by the way, you interrupted. So, now if you will excuse me. . .” Tristan stood up and tried to shove his way past the man so that he may recover his reading material. He was not expecting a fist to be in his path, and the next thing he knew, he was on his back, his nose bleeding, the world spinning, and a voice saying: “See *hic* Tom? I-I told you I could *hic* take him.”

    Your superior asks for a favour you would have problem doing:
    Tristan walked into his superior’s office very slowly. A messenger had told Tristan that he was needed for something special. He sat down in front of his superior quietly and waited to be spoken too. His boss turned around and smiled a crooked smile before speaking.

    “Tristan, you saw what happened in the market yesterday right? That nasty business with Harry?” He chuckled a bit when Tristan nodded his head in slight confusion. “And then you also know my involvement right?” Tristan once again nodded his head. “And you wrote everything in that little journal of yours right?” Tristan nodded a third time, starting to see where this was going. “Well I need you to give me that journal or burn it. It has some incriminating evidence that can damage my reputation if that information is ever released to the public. I can’t have that happen.” He stood and waited for Tristan’s response.

    “I can’t do that sir. This journal is meant to be an account for future generations. I will not permit such a crime as you are suggesting. And besides,” Tristan stood up. “If you were foolish enough to be involved in such affairs in the first place, it is only deserving of one so lowly to face the proper punishment.” He turned and left the room, despite the protests of his Superior.

    Lore QuestionsList three causes for the fall of the Empiracle:
    Clashes with the northern Mountain Clans.
    Internal political Strife within the Empiracle.
    The Guyrese/Emprical war, or the Great Dividing War.

    Who is proposing an expedition to the western lands?:
    Robert Edwarding and Overlord Rauric III
    Where is the expedition to be launched from?:
    Roland’s Field and Rocky Cape.
    Questions or comments?:
    Second. Also, sorry if it's a tad hard to read, it wouldn't let me tab in the MC forum reply box and stuff.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Looking for a community driven server!
    Hi there Xclbr1,
    I don't really know what your preferences are for the type of server you want to play on, but I do know a good RP server if you are interested. I know it may not be your style, but I thought I'd just let you know just in case it may pique your interest. We call ourselves Silver Gaming, and we have a really great community and the staff are pretty nice and helpful people. I would recommend you take a look if MC RP sounds interesting to you. We are currently in the process of starting up a new server, so now would be a good time to look at joining so you can be there for the opening!
    Here is our forum page: http://aneria.enjin.com/home
    -Tankinator
    Posted in: Server Recruitment
  • 0

    posted a message on THE ANERIAN CHRONICLES [RP][Airships][Classes][Player-Driven-Story][Extensive Lore]
    We do have an official resource pack. You can find it on our forums, just scroll down until you see "The Updated TAC resource Pack" in the main announcements.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on THE ANERIAN CHRONICLES [RP][Airships][Classes][Player-Driven-Story][Extensive Lore]
    Something extremely commonplace. For example, "My father was kidnapped and tortured by bandits. Now I am out for revenge."
    That would be considered cliche.
    Quote from BEATSMAN102

    OK so I changed the backstory, the spelling, the grammar, and having my class start as mage.

    I also learned what OOC meant, but still nedd to know what cliche is.

    Is there anything else I missed?
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on THE ANERIAN CHRONICLES [RP][Airships][Classes][Player-Driven-Story][Extensive Lore]
    Quote from BEATSMAN102

    OOC ?

    And I wasnt trying to make new town so i didn`t put any name on it. Do you still think i should change that .

    As for the grammar i wasn`t putting as much effort as i should have into it, do you think i should go through and eddit it?


    OOC = out of Character, which is the first section of the app.

    And I think you ought to change the village thing. I am not a whitelister either, but I am an experienced player and I like to help out people
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on The Entrappers - Dreams of the Past [FINISHED]
    Weird. Its like both stories exist in one world but have been separated until now...

    Its fun pretending to be a conspiracy theorist.
    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on The Entrappers - Dreams of the Past [FINISHED]
    Or maybe he didn't actually die. Everyone thought he did because they didn't go look. Giving him some kind of character motivation.
    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on The Entrappers - Dreams of the Past [FINISHED]
    Amazing idea...Tankinator returns from the land of the dead, but he has been corrupted and is now evil and wants to destroy everything/conquer everything with steampunky technology of awesomeness. JKJK. Unless you actually think it could work. :D
    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on THE ANERIAN CHRONICLES [RP][Airships][Classes][Player-Driven-Story][Extensive Lore]
    Oh yes it has Zek. in fact, on of our server threads got shut down for a couple days because of the amount of off topicness, mostly caused by angry people and very excited players. It was quite the adventure.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Any servers?
    If you are interested in a nice rp server, look up the Anerian Chronicles. It is not for everyone, but you may be interested.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on The Entrappers - Dreams of the Past [FINISHED]
    Quote from MadScientist

    Should I be concerned about this ?


    no
    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on THE ANERIAN CHRONICLES [RP][Airships][Classes][Player-Driven-Story][Extensive Lore]
    Tsev, next server= a city that's economy revolves around a cookie factory.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • To post a comment, please .