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AnOwlAppears


Owl
  • Rules: Yes
    Referral: Through a Friend
    In your own words, what is powergaming, and why should it be avoided in roleplay?: RP with knowledge not gained through natural cause of the game. (Orc travelling to a battle he doesn't know exists would be some form of an example)
    In your own words, what is metagaming, and why should it be avoided in roleplay?: Roleplaying with too much power, or focus on oneself, including in chat. (High elf god king who doesn't let anyone speak would be an example)
    Status: Accepted

Iómion, son of a Dark Elf and a Wood Elf, was naturally exiled from Ker'nor at birth on the rather unfortunate basis of being a half breed. Subsequently, his mother returned home alongside him to Laureh'lin (It is not known what become of his father though the worst is assumed. Dark Elves tend towards dark ways, funnily enough.) Being slightly too young and far too inadequate with a sword favoured Iómion well during the latter wars and thus he succeeded spectacularly in remaining intact with his head, a wonderful achievement for most, though generally frowned upon by those who believe in a concept known as 'service to your country'. Needless to say, Iómion had little in the way of loyalty to a people, though focused  more on loyalty to what is good, the occasional ale included, not that this affects an elf much. Known for his quick quips and sporadic tendencies, he has an unruly habit of wandering off, generally at times considered ill conceived, foolish, or darn right dangerous. A sense of inquisitiveness towards the world and a jolly outlook upon the many aspects of life made Iómion into the foolhardy, slightly nutty mind you, elf he is today.


Character Name: Iómion
Character Race: Wood Elf
Character Gender: Male
Character Age: 102
Physical Description: An eccentric looking elf, wears headpiece of wood to symbolise connection to life (Being alive wasn't enough it seems) Brightness reflects attitude.
Roleplay Scenario: The traveller has just arrived in a small town. As they look around, their gaze is met with run down houses and shops. They duck into one of the shacks, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the small room, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town?" She begins, then pauses to study their face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a chair, “Where do you come from? What do you hope to make of yourself?”

((How does your character respond? Please ensure your response is at least six sentences long, and uses at least two actions.))

Example: (delete this when you add your own)

"Oh, I just, uh…" The traveler stutters, tensing up. They eye the crone, then back outside the shack. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
Screenshot of Skin:



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