[Accepted]DylanLeflash/Gabb_von_scab's application III

[DylanLeFlash 0]

**NOTE: I am thinking of changing computer: First, my application duplicates, then it disappeared completely? *Heavy sigh* I just hope i have not caused too much problem...

Minecraft Account Name: Gabb_von_scab

How old are you?: 14.

Time-Zone/Country of Residence: Sweden.

Do you have a good grip on English grammar and the English language?: I am very good at english, even though it is not my first language. Just don't expect me to be flawless at it.

Have you had any previous experience in roleplaying?: Aye, and i have been a member of three other Minecraft roleplay servers.

Have you read and understood and agree to the rules?: Yes.

How did you hear about the Lord of the Craft?: I searched for a good roleplay server, and i found this one in a server list. I thought it was worth checking out! And indeed: It looks very promising!

Link any previous applications you have made to the Lord of the Craft: I have made none.

Have you posted this application on Minecraft Forum? If not, post it here:http://www.minecraftforum.net/topic/832121-the-lord-of-the-craft-enter-the-world-of-asulon-o-f-f-i-c-i-a-l-l-y-t-h-e-n-o-1-r-p-s-e-r-v-e-r-100-unique-gameplay/!: I have.

Definitions

In your own words, define what the act of roleplaying is: It is having a good source of imagination, and use that source to be another type of person, be it another race, sex, or personality.

In your own words, define what the act of meta-gaming is: Meta gaming is when you know something OOC that you in-character would not know. For example: a friend tells you on skype the location of an awesome treasure stack! But your character does not know were it is, does she/he not? He/she have to discover it first, by someone telling them or the location being written in a book.

In your own words, define what the act of power-emoting is: It is when someone does a RP move that is highly overpowered and "kills" people just like that, for example "Casts a fireball on you, and you die". In eccence, it makes you win ALL the time.

In-Character Details

Character Name: Dylan Geirsson.

Character Race: Human, Northerner.

Character biography - Make this at least 2 paragraphs long, which must explain your character’s history, appearance, personality, age and any other details you deem necessary:

Dylan is a odd fellow, always keen to hide his face underneath masks or long hoods.

No-one is quite sure where he came from, only that he made his first appearence merely a day after the White Wizard’s return, and the attack of the Drakes. Wherever people are discussing these two events, Dylan seems to alway be there, listening. Those few people who have gained an insight in his personal interests describe him as ”duoble-playing” and ”unpredictable”. They also mention his high interest for what most people believe these events will lead to: an all out war, between the races of Asulon and whatever forces that lie behind the drakes.

As i said previously, Dylan’s first appearence was one day after the drake attack. A group of farmers found him near the fields, a tall, brown-haired man in his mid 20’s, wearing a white, odd mask. When they found him, he wore red robes with a dark-gold trim, all dirty. They woke him up, and it was certain that he was not "normal": Once asked about where he came from, he would be deathly quiet. When questioned about his name, but he only muttered one thing, repeatedly: "Dylan, Dylan, Dylan" so that was what they called him. Even if he could be quiet as the grave, when people were not looking, he could suddenly giggle, draw figures in the ground, or being what looked like bored to death. Dylan acted just like a child.

Also, when looking into what little he had on him, the farmers discovered some maps, two thin books about the very basics of magic, and alot of cloaks and hooded robes in different colors, though primary red, black and blue. Along with many, many masks. Dylan seemed to love this type of headgear dearly, and they took him as a mask merchant, of some sort.

When the blacksmith, a big, muscular man in his 50's, became tired of Dylan and decided to throw him out of the village, Dylan did something no-one ever suspected. He rose and stared at the brute for a moment, took a rake lying nearby, and hit it on the blacksmith on the side of his back

The blacksmith backed a few steps, moaning over his pains.

The farmers, surprised due to Dylan’s seemingly passive nature changing so quickly, went to attack Dylan immediately, only to discover that he was gone. When they started to search, All they found was some wooden masks and some arrows. All of the stuff they had went through were gone. However, once they went to the black smith, his little girl came along with a purse of gold, and some healing herbs. The girl said she got them from a ”pale man, crying colors”. The herbs did help, even though the poor man would never really get rid of his back pain.

The last time someone saw Dylan, he was heading towards the more mystical places of Asulon, selling his masks along the way. Is his actions noble, and is he just a poor mask-merchant, Or is something else going on inside his mind? It is not known. After all, one cannot see his eyes, what they truly think of the world around them, and what plans they have for a world on the verge of chaos, good or evil alike.

What are your characters ambitions?: Dylan's ambition may seem to vary on the situation: One minute he may be saving your life, the other he have sold you to the enemy for a toy train. His "neutrality" may be a fraud, though: He seems to have an obsession for arcane artifacts and, even if he does not use it, has a high interest of magic.

Please provide an in-game screenshot of your skin here:

Here are the three guises Dylan usually takes:

http://i.imgur.com/JzDHc.png

http://i.imgur.com/cBAGg.png

http://i.imgur.com/ctsHo.png

Is there anything else you would like to say about your character: Dylan may be a good ally to have on the battlefield, but never trust him with anything personal: Dylan tends to keep to himself, and his "true" ambitions seem to be a mystery to most. He is afraid of all higher beings, and seems to wish to gain their power for himself. A death wish, in other words. He have some training in the art of the bow, and it is his most common choice of weapon. Also, few see his whole face: Most of it are covered by either a hood or his weird-looking mask.

Open-Response-Questions

Each question here must be answered with a minimum of one full paragraph, and detail the scene you are given in the way it would happen in roleplay. These questions should be answered in first person. Be detailed, not short.

Upon entering the Mighty Human City of Arethor, you come across a shop-keeper calling out to sell his wares to passers-by. The shopkeeper is not a Human, he is a poor dwarf looking to make a living in a new city. What is your response?

I have always hold high interest in the magicial art, even though i had never had any master to teach me. So even if i could not practice it practically, i could do so theoreticially. I would study the extremly few learning books i had, but since no-one could show me how to ”understand” the principes of magic, I could never really ”learn” anything of them. Still, it doesn’t matter to me, the books are fun to read, and that was good enough for me. Yet here i was, at the marketplace of Arethor, looking for anything; and anyone related to the mystical arts. I look around, but fail to find anything to match my sweet, sweet interests. As i give up and start with plan B, to attempt to sell any of my fine, precious masks, something catches my eye: a helm. Now, you may think that a helm is as interesting as anything else on the market, but this one is particular. I run to the little stall, and examine the object closely.

It is of iron, made of dwarven style, without any un-neccesary garments or cosmeticas. Anyone who passes the stall do not give it a single regard, but i am staring at it. Yes... there. In the small cracks, i see a faint, almost unrecoginizable glow. As i reach for the object, i feel somthing tugging at my back.

”That will be 100 gold fer ye, friend.” It’s a dwarf, with a short beard, who must be fairly young for his kin. I put on a kind smile, but the dwarf only seems to be shocked. Suddenly i remember, that i have my sweet, sweet mask on.

”100? But please, my kind sir, Is that not a bit to much for a poor mask merchant like me?” The dwarf seems relaxed now, as he realizes why i weild my fine mask.

”That helm ’be me families heirloom, friend. It may not look like one of ’em gold-plated handywork that the other dwarves ye will find are bragging about, but it is one of the finest headgear yer eyes have ever gazed upon!” The little man is smiling broadly, obviously proud of his families craftmansship. His pride give me an idea.

”If you’re so glad about your heirloom, my friend, then why sell it here?” I ask, quietly.

He twiches a bit, and even if his face does not change, one can clearly see his sadness. ”It...it is none of yer concern!” He says, his voice raising higher.

”No... But, judging from your reaction, you are clearly in some kind of trouble. Big trouble. And big troubles do not appear from nowhere. You have to start something, triggering a mechanism, a chain of events. From a small mistake, it envolves to disaster and... desperate actions.” I say, calmly.

”I...I...”

”So, what is it you have done?”

He is clearly broken, and just looks at the floor, silently.

”Dis’ helm was stolen”, He whispers. ”I took it from this cities armoury. Appearently it is... One of ’em Undead’s commander helmets” He was especially quiet when he said *Undead*. But i just laugh.

”Oh, my dear, dear friend. You have no reason to be afraid. And whatever that made you so desperate to steal a undead artifact, you won’t have to tell me.”

He is very relieved to hear what i say, and he brushes away the sweat on his forehead. ”Thanks, mate...” He looks at me, suddenly, and it seems that has gotten an idea. ”Hey mate, ye look like an fine man to me. How about that i give ye ‘dis helmpiece for... 25 coin?” I look at him, almost proud to see him going so far for some shelter for the night.

”Of course! How could i resist that kind offer?”

And so, the deal is made. I clearly know that he took me as a fool, Getting rid of the evidence and getting some coin at the same time, but i am the one smiling. As i look down on the Undead artifact, i can hear it whisper to me, begging me to wear it. As tempting as the offer is, i know to well about the corruptive power of the Nether. I am pleased that the dwarf will get a warm bed tonight, as i throw the helmet in the river. I do not yet have the magical power to wield it, and for the moment, such items of power must wait.

**NOTE: This may seem as an ”villanous” act, by letting a thief run away, but he was seriously desperate. Also, Dylan threw the helm away. It is gone from the face of world. (For now...)**

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You’re in the Cloud Sanctuary late at night, when a large Orc begins to threaten a nearby dwarf. The only present monk is fast asleep, and the situation looks like it will escalate into violence soon, what does your character do?

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I walk down the many paths of Cloud Sanctuary, thinking about what had happened earlier this day. I had not managed to make much money out of my fine masks today, and no money meant no warm beef stew. I know to well that the old Orc Gruub’mal, who owns my favourite inn is surprisingly greedy, perhaps more than the many dwarfs i have seen during my journy. Still, hes cook DO make the finest beef stew my poor tounge have ever had the pleasure to taste.

Not many people are interested in masks these days, I think for myself, sadly. ”And how about the painters? The crafters? The masters behind the art? Do THEY get the smallest, tiniest piece of admiration for their sweet, sweet masks?”. Suddenly, i feel so very tired. I decide to sit down beside a lowly, sleeping monk on a bench. As i think about what to do about my current situation, I notice a loud roar. I have been here long enough to know THAT kind of roar.

”How DARE YOU?! How DARE you”, Gruub’mal bellowed down to the tiny man, ”Insult my house, after ALL i have done for you?!”

Who was he yelling at? Who, if not the same desperate dwarf from before, now trapped in the Orc’s iron grip.

Was this a sign from the heavens? To give me some amusement in this moment of unrelentless boredom? Before i get the chance to raise from my seat, Gruub’Mal quickly turned to me, as if he had smelled my scent (which i would not be suprised if that was the case).

”You”, He simply gruffed at me.

”Yes, me, me, me. Say, old friend”, The Orc’s eyes narrowed at the word *friend*, ”Are you in some sort of problematic situation here, hmm?”

”Problem”, he barked, ”My problem is your kind, Friend. You, and this tiny freak here. Both of you sleep under MY roof, eating of MY food, and pollute MY air!” I felt a sudden urge to stab the Orc in the eyes, but after years of standing such temptations, i simply put on a little smile.

”Ohh, but such is things are just a few, petty thingy-thinks! How about that I pay you the drinks?”

That DID surprise Gruub’Mal, but his eyes quickly narrowed again.

”A good offer, but empty. Last i saw you, you had no gold.

”I sold some masks.”

”You never manage to sell something.”

”I had a lucky day.”

”So you say.” The Orc seemed convinced enough. ”So, show me what you have then.”

I nods, as i reach for my yellow paint. As i thought: the paint had not been used for long, and was pretty much hardened like rock. I took the largest paint-mass i had.

”Here, my dear green-like-a-goad. The purest of gold!”

As his jaws dropped, so did his iron grip on the dwarf. I saw the him run the fastest his little legs could bear. I turn to the Orc, who now had a wide grin on his face. ”You know, I may have underestimated you... You are welcome at my inn. And.. you may have free food for the whole month.”

Pleased with my little prank, i walk with Gruub’Mal on the road to warm beds, and tasty soup.

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Whilst walking down the road to Malinor, you stumble upon an old man. His walking stick , looks weak and frail, and just as you are about to ask something, the stick breaks, and the man falls to the ground. As he falls down, a bag of Minas falls to the ground, and splits open. As you watch the multiple coins spill out, you peer down at the defenceless man. What does your character do?:

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A month runs out fast, and Gruub’Mal was back in his old, grumpy himself. I try once again my luck in selling some masks, and i set my sights to Malinor. I come across an old man, who seems not to know anything about the world around him. Something about this man interested me deeply; how he walked, how he looked, his walking st-

I do not get the chance to think much about his wooden stick until it breaks, and inevitably, the old man falls. I look at the old man, somewhat surprised by his fall. Some coins fall out, but i do not give a regard for them.

”I say, a most unpleasant fall, that one. But then again, if falling to the ground was pleasant, everyone would be falling, no?” I laugh at my own second grade joke, as i help the man up. He mumbles something that seems like a ”thank you”, and then continues away. I stare at him a long time, long enough for him to disappear at sight. Suddenly, i remember. The money! I have forgotten to return them to him! As i reach down for them, i notice something else. A letter, it seems. My curiosity can never be sated, so i quickly opened it.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Druid al’Meeka,

The word has spread quickly. The return of the white wizard and the attack of the blackwing drakes is not something that we can simply ignore. We must act quickly, such events can only mean as an act of the Gods themselves.

I urge you to hurry. I have already sent letters to the others, we must arrange a meeting immediately.

Regards,

Alan

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

I close the letter, as a memory flashes... The drakes. Something awakens in me, a purpose perhaps. But i wave it away: i got coin now, and the druid is far to long for me to hand them back. I continue my journey, head filled with memories and heavy thoughts.

**Note: this may seem as an ”Villainous” act, but remember: the druid only spilled a few coins, and he was far ahead. Dylan could not see him anymore.**

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[Skippy 2466]

Under Review.

[Aryon 679]

Accepted.

Please wait to be implemented by a Game Moderator. Do not disappoint me.

[Aryon 679]

Moved to Accepted Forum

[Whitebeard 126]

Implemented