[✔] [Accepted] Siri Heleia's App

[shimmeringbliss 268]

(Note: This app is a few hours early before I attend a meeting, and in my absence I hope you will forgive a small transgression. I am fearful of losing inspiration, therefore completing my 2nd app.)

 

Out-Of-Character Information
Please fill out the following questions as accurately as possible, and ensure the essential details are accurate.

Minecraft Account Name:

 

shimmeringbliss
 

How old are you?:22

 

Time-Zone:GMT+8
 

Have you read, understood and agreed to the rules?: Yes
 

What previous experience have you had in role-playing?:

I used to do forum rp here and there.
 

How did you hear about the the Lord of the Craft?:

Youtube
 

Link any applications that you have previously made for the server:

none
 

Have you posted this application on the Minecraft Forum? If not, then please do so (link above):

http://www.minecraft...1#entry20625421
 

Have you read the Elven lore, and shall you ensure you make use of it and follow it in your biography?: Yes.

Definitions
In your own words define the following terms. Do not take any definitions from elsewhere!:

Role-playing: Giving life to a character you create, and living through them. Feeling their emotions, personality, desires, and memories. But the player and the character are two separate entities entirely.
Meta-gaming: Getting ooc knowledge and using it in game. Like the location of a super secret thief base.
Power-emoting: Emoting that is final, and doesn't allow room for counter-emotes. I kill you, is final. I attempt to kill you, is not final.

In-Character Information:
Complete the following biography on your character:

Full Name: Siri Hileia
Current Age: 125
Sub-race (if any): High elf
Past / History (include childhood, major-events, etc. 2+ paragraphs long):

 

Bell-braids swaying in the wind, chiming melodically as a small shock hits the earth. Swinging left, posturing to the right. Light on her toes, quick upon the balls of her feet. A thin blue veil fluttering as her hands conduct its performance, almost mirroring the dancer itself. Spinning, spinning on her slender left leg, her smiling face obscured by the whirlwind of cloth flaying about her; the veil mesmerizing into a deeper shade of blue until all is gone.This is the story of Siri Hileia.

 

A short one. A small one. Born of impure birth, scorned by her father, scorned by her society. The proud High elves of Haelun'or. Her mother was supposedly won over by a ever-charming Mali'ame, whose name to this date she knows naught. Her step father marrying her mother as she was one of the true 'pure' Mali'ahreal left. Caught by the Legion, dragged back to 'preserve the purity'. She was a breeding mare, no more, no less.

 

Siri the hybrid. The Impure. Taunted by all those around her, for the secret had been leaked from the household. A enraged face, coming back home everyday. Her step-father was a ill-tempered man. Her mother. Sweet, kind, gentle soul. Always being pushed around by her terrible step-dad. She was not allowed to meet her only daughter, for pray she might corrupt her further by teaching the she-child weakness, and other tomfoolery inadequate of the proud High Elven society.

 

Siri the hybrid. The Impure. Terrible at studies, terrible at math, a walking disaster in science. A Impure. A Failure. Every lesson torture to her senses, everyday dissapointment, harsh words, and resentment was all she knew. From her step-father, her classmates, her teachers. All deemed her a Disgrace. Yet only her step-father knew her secret. Why he never banished her, she would never comprehend. But if there was one thing Siri knew how to do, it was to dance. Dance like the flowing wind, formless yet graceful. Agile without being rushed; the falling waterfalls of Haelun'or. The anchor to this wretched world, oh if only she could dance forever, dance away her worries, dance away the evil people around her. Alas, dancing is but self delusion, the fleeting feeling of peace leaving as soon as her feet stopped. Worries that someday, her feet might stop and never start.

 

Weary eyes, but a genuine smile, she kissed the small child, gifted a small bell to her on her miserable 10th birthday. A small miracle, the two united. But as quickly she was spirited away from the child, not before she left her with a important sentence:

 

"Smile, Siri. For people know peace within a smile."

 

Hileia. Peace. She would be at peace, for her mother said so. The only person who loved her, the only person who didn't think she was a failure. She glanced downwards at the small bell. Light topaz blue, the colour of her eyes, showing she inherited her mother's pure high elven heritage. Moreso the pity. She braided it into her hair, a sheet of yellow with a twinkle of blue. Bells chiming in the wind as she dance. Laughter, happiness, excitement. She smiled, for the first time in 10 years. She smiled.

 

And then the men came. Man, bulky large creatures, with little to no grace within them. Gruff and huffed, they swelled their chest like the peacocks around Haelun'or. Needed to get entertainment for the palace they said, gold they would pay, they said, for the noble houses, they said. Their faces coarse, yet they bore strange insignias of the red and white. Siri was unsure what they represent. Her step-father, knowing how Siri will never bring glory to the Iyath Household, decided selling her to barbarians would be a better course of action, lest she stay here and cause further mischief and nuisance. And for 100 gold bars, she was traded, carried away like a purchase from the bookstore. Her poor mother never knew what became of Siri. Perhaps it was better she didn't know.

 

The men glanced at her figure. At the age of 15, she was starting to mature into a women. Her curves showing, and her hips swaying with every step, the men leered at her greedily. But they were not allowed to have her. Such rights were reserved to those with the coin. The Noblemen. Different breeds of humans, they ordered the men around like they were dogs, commanding them to fetch her like this. The anger, yet with underlying fear as the two men whispered to each other, about how the nobles were terrible. Her heart clutching with fear, what would they need her for? She couldn't perform riddles, talk eloquently like her classmates, or even act graceful. Was it that they wanted her for.....something else?

 

They didn't talk to her, more likely the Noblemen ordered her to Throat dry and parched at the thought, she escaped on the 3rd night on the road, her bell braid silenced with her right hand as she leapt into the night, silent like a fearful rabbit. Although that was terribly unclever of her; her skin pale like the moonlight reflecting upon the full moon of the night. The men yelled, so loud and terrible; like a enraged animal losing its prey. Heavy footsteps, cursing and waking up the woods. They were stronger, faster, and had running boots. Barefeet had its benefits, but running in a dense thicket with various peddles and pointy sticks lay strewn were not....ideal.

 

Left right front back was all meaningless to her, she just wanted to get as far away from the footsteps as possible. Eying ahead, her eyes widen in front of impending doom, her feet stopped dead in its tracks, skidding to a halt. A large ravine, larger than any she has seen before. Turning behind, the yells were louder and coming closer. Thrice-damned-grunts! They sure move fast for clumsy oafs! Swearing, she glanced back at the ravine, stopping a willow jutting at the edge, precariously hanging off by the side. She knew she had to decide to either face her fate, or face the incurred wrath of humans and 'nobles'.

 

With a resigned sigh, she ran with all her might, and she flew, her braids singing with abandon in freedom from her hand.

 

And then she fell.

 

She whipped her blue veil out, trusting it and praying with all her might, that it would slow her descent and catch upon the willow branch. If there was a God, for the High Elves did not  believe in such fallacy, it must have certainly laughed and saved her for the pure irony of saving a non-believer. The veil hooked upon a few branches, leaves shaking and stirring, but otherwise holding her small frame by the ends of the veil. She swung over after a few tries, perched upon the willow tree like a tree-cat. Silent and watching.

 

Then the men arrive, with torches blazing like the morning sun. The spun, they seached, and they cursed. Terribly, I might add. But they were not elves, keen senses and sharp hearing bestowed upon the children of Malin. They trudged back, their lights fading. Only then did Siri relax.

 

But the flight of her life is not over, in fact it has just begun. A new world awaits her, and she was alone.

Ambitions for the Future: To dance, to not be caged, and to do what she likes most.
Personality: Cautiously carefree, will avoid confrontation as soon as possible, insecure, smiles all the time even if there is no good reason. 
Skills: Dancing, getting lost, great at saying misleading words
Appearance (this must include an in-game screenshot of your skin):

 

http://gyazo.com/f94...eea07ec0da6.png
Any other details you wish to share about your character:

Open-Response-Questions
Each question in this section must be answered with a minimum of one paragraph which must describe the event in full.Please be as descriptive as possible and do not break character or lore at any point.
____

1. As you walk through the deep forests you hear the sound of whispering and snickering. Uponinspection you realize that a group of High Elves are mocking a small Wood Elf child. How do you react?

Answer:

 

Arrogance, pretentious, their self-admiration circling among the group like a leftover being passed around by rats.

 

 She thinks to herself as she approaches the group. But she is small, and she is weak. Dancing is her forte, confrontation is not. She unconsciously moves towards the right, pulling her veil up lest they come looking for her to pick on next. Eyes averting the terrible scene, Siri strides wordlessly towards the side. One might mistake her for a human who wants nothing to do with the high elves or the poor wood elf. The wood elf child will have to fend for itself, for thats how the way the world works. 

 

Once out of the way, she sighs. Deep regret gnawing at her chest

 

Just like how you were treated, yet you do nothing to help. Coward. Failure.

 

Hanging her head in shame, she continues quietly along the gravel path, feeling miserable.

 

 

2. Whilst wandering through the Elven forests you come across a frail old man with a walking stick. He collapses in front of you, falling to the ground with a sharp thud. Out of his pocket falls a small pouch of gold coins, which hits the ground and splits open spreading coins across the pathway. The man lies there,defenseless - what do you do?

Answer:

 

 

Gold. The same gold used to buy her from Haelun'or. Perhaps a coin or two wont hurt. It's hard, living on the road by yourself. She carefully slips a few coins out, but hesitates. Biting her lower lips to steel and quench her greed, she reaches down gently, checking the old man's pulse. Warm, beating feebly against his ribs. Alive. Siri sighs in relief, seeing a person die in front of you was bad luck. 

 

With some difficulty, she drags the poor man to the big birch along the path, resting his back against its trunk. Scooping up the spilled coin, she lays it respectfully with the cane not too far away from him. She already spent so much effort in dragging the body towards the tree, might as well wait and see if the old man comes around. The day is cool, perhaps a bit of exercise wont hurt...

 

The old man finally blinks his eyes open, quite confused as to why he appears to be snoozing peacefully against the tree. Turning his head to the right, he sees a lithe figure in a swirl of colours, dancing in the dazzling twilight. Her sleeves twirling in a tempest of sunshine yellow and ocean deep blue. Clashing colours, yet strangely so complementary.  His gaze slowly moves up, seeing the face of a excited elven woman, her bell braid whistling in the wind. After a moment, she stops, chest heaving as she looks fiercely at him, her adrenalin still pulsing within.

 

She takes a deep breathe, and all the fire flees, leaving her only calmness. She smiles at the old man, sitting beside him as they engage in light conversation about how they came to meet by happenstance. 

 

 

3. Whilst traversing the Elven Woodlands, you come across a small clearing in which a colored carriage sits. A trader stands outside of it and calls you over, telling you of his wares. He points out that his carriage sells just about everything, and that he's willing for you to haggle for a price. What does your character do? (Please include:- item, haggling for prices and the discussion involved).

Answer:

 

Clappers, sandals, silk clothing, jewelry. All appeal to her but most importantly, bells. She walks up to the make-shift carraige-shop, wordlessly reaching out for the bells. Bells of various sizes. Large and small, ornate and plain, handles or none, she rang each of them in succession. Peals of bells quivering throughout the glade. She smiles, picking up the two she likes most as she dances to its melodic tune. Ringing her bells with every step, her own bell braid joining in the symphony. Smiling. She steps out of her reveerie, and smiles at the merchant. Pleading his generous soul to part with just a set of bells. She would dance for him if it pleases him, and surely her performance earlier would earn the envy of theaters and courts! A small price to pay to help a maiden in need. She would part with what meager savings she has, just for the right bells. Failing, she would not let the trader leave without promising her the bell rings for her, for she will scrimp and scrap for it.

[LeRenardNoir 413]

Accepted!

A great application! Please wait for a GM to implement you, this may take some time!

Welcome to Lord of the Craft and happy role-playing!

[LeRenardNoir 413]

Moved to Accepted Forum

[Seventh / Ryan 93]

Player Whitelisted