[✔] [Accepted] Ryanracoon's App [Human]

[whoisbatman 0]

Out-Of-Character Information

Please fill out the
following questions as accurately as possible, and ensure the essential details
are accurate.

 

Minecraft Account
Name: ryanracoons

How old are you?:
Eighteen

Time-Zone: CST

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

What previous
experience have you had in role-playing?: Four years of Runescape roleplay,
just under a year of Guild wars 2 roleplay, Meez fourm rp for two years,
tabletop role-play occasionally.

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

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

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

Have you read the
Human lore, and shall you ensure you make use of it and follow it in your
biography?:I have! FOR THE HOLY OREN EMPIRE.

 

Definitions

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

 

Role-playing:
Roleplaying is the act of creating and playing a role for yourself in various
fantasy universes and settings. The main uses for role-playing can be an escape
from reality, creative writing practice, practice of social interaction, or to
simply-…have fun. Roleplaying in many ways can be much like stage acting,
you’re expected to mold with many roles, though we all have our
specializations.

Meta-gaming:
Meta-gaming is the act of using OOC information IC without proper knowledge of
it in-character, meta-gaming can also refer to the act of blurring the solid
IC/OOC barrier.

Power-emoting: Power-emoting
or auto hitting is performing an action that is created without the possibility
of a block or resistance. For example;

*Person A stabs you with his blade.*

It is correct to provide a better action that allows the other roleplayer to
offer resistance if they so choose.

 

In-Character
Information:

Complete the
following biography on your character:

 

Full Name: Alfonse
VanHolde

Current Age: 19

Sub-race (if any): N/A

Past / History (include childhood, major-events, etc. 2+ paragraphs long):

        Deep into the Snow’s Maiden in the slums
of Abresi, a child’s cry is heard-…after four intense hours of labor, Adaline
VanHolde pushes young Alfonse into the world. A healthy child with a cold blue
stare looks from her to his father, Jerald, as the doctor begins to pack his
things up, and offers his farewell; the new family spends their first moments
together…

        Malin’s
Welcome. The boy has now aged to six, a smiling pale northerner, with the lanky
build of a southeron waves goodbye to his hardworking father, a shipping
specialist (or a crate handler…) meanwhile, his mother places away her dishes,
and runs delicate fingers through the boy’s soot black hair, he turns to her,
offering a mischievous smile before scrambling off to play.

        Alfonse lived a stereotypical slum rat’s
childhood. Rather than studies, grammar school, and truth faith sermons, he
favored work for a mysterious figure known to the children “The Ratmaster”
Practicing the arts of deft hands, and five fingered thievery he made a decent
living. This continued until one evening, his father caught Alfonse doing this
and gave him a stern talking to, involving an oak switch and his knuckles. A
lesson well learned.

 

        The
First Seed. Alfonse stands at the ready as his father presents to him his tenth
name day gift. Wrapped in a thick red bolt of cloth, Alfonse unclamps the
bindings to find the leather-bound tome marked with arcane symbols etched upon
the surface. “A traveling sage sold this to me, what do you think?” Upon
flipping the cover open, Alfonse would squint at the pages attempting to form a
sentence but ultimately failing…”I-…I can’t read this, father.” With a light
hearted chuckle, Jerald tossles the boy’s hair “That is why you will teach
yourself. If you want to learn what the book offers, you’ll have to learn
yourself!” With a determined nod, the boy smiles to his father before heading
off to his bed so that he may start his studies.

        At the age of ten, Alfonse began to
teach himself to read, through word of mouth from passing strangers, and
travelers alike, he’d form syllables and begin to decipher the old journal. It
was a text that spoke of a world before his, spoke of magic…spoke of aegis.
Within the pages, Alfonse found his calling- Adventure. One could say that this
would be the turning point in the boy’s life.

        The
Second Seed. Children all around shout and cry screaming bets and chants just
as a discarded rust covered bell is bashed with a wooden mallet, sending out a
resounding *PING* at which point the two boys step forth, backed by the
moonlight is one Alfonse VanHolde, twelve years of age, his build now visible
due to his time preparing for the future, a well developing young man…Moments
later, another boy steps into the corner opposite of him, a stocky older boy,
his features masked by a rawhide leather mask, shadowing all but his savage
brown eyes. The mallet pings again. The children let out a loud collective cry
as Alfonse’s opponent sprints foreword, sending a heavy strike to the
jaw…without any resistance, the boy is out cold…moments later, the boy finds
himself awake in the prep room with a familiar face staring back at him…

        With
the journal read, Alfonse begins to practice the skills he’ll need to become a
successful adventurer, transferring his time to the panther’s den- an
underground fighting ring where children and older boys would go to fight, and
place bets on fights. Yet another place that the boy didn’t belong…Alfonse was
a good fighter by most standards but his main fault was that he seemed to
always end up choosing to go against a bigger opponent, Eventually leading to
his downfall. During the fight with the boy known as ‘Masque,’ Alfonse was
being watched. Upon waking up, a ghost from his childhood takes him in- The
Ratmaster.

        The
Grand Harvest. The sounds of vermin scurrying about, and drunkards arguing is
interrupted by the violent smash of a window. Hushes are heard all around as
the trio of black garbed figures slide into the home, careful to avoid any
stray glass, once inside the group climbs the stairs. “What did we come here
for again”? Blurts out the figure in the back of the group in a shaky nervous
voice. “Shut your Gob, Vern!” Retorts the one on point before they all scramble
up the stairs, and towards an intricate looking locked door, the figure on
point crouches down to the lock and begins to work it. Only seconds later, the
door clicks open, and the trio enters. “The Ratmaster sure expected much from
us, he did…”

“Of course-…because only /we/ can get him an item of this caliber.”

“What did I /just/ say? Shut up!”

The trio makes its way to the back of the study where a small chest is located,
upon reaching into his pocket, the central figure retrieves a key, inserting it
into the keyhole, the chest clicks open…Removing his blackened masque, the
‘leader’ of the group lets his soot black hair fall down around his shoulders a
grin coming upon his face as he lifts the small dagger from within the chest
up.

“We’ve got it Alfonse, good work!”

 

        As it would be apparent by now, The
Ratmaster wasn’t the best influence. After the night at the Panther’s den,
Alfonse began to work for him in exchange for knowledge. He’d learn the arts of
speech craft, archery, poison craft, and lock picking from the Ratmaster and
his many other rouge disciples, and in turn did many odd jobs for the shady
master of the streets. He was normally tasked with breaking and entering or
destruction of property. Between all of this, the fifteen year old Alfonse found
time to charm the young girls with his boyish looks and dangerous attitude, but
as fate would have it, the poor boy despite his best efforts could never muster
up enough initiative to talk to a girl. The Ratmaster had told him that all of
his work would be for a higher purpose, one involving getting him and all of
his disciples out of poverty, and into the manors of the capital city.

 

The Sun’s Smile. “Please! Don’t-…You don’t have to do th-…” The
young girl would cry, being cut short by a backhand to the cheek by a wild eyed
leather clad member of the Ratmaster’s pack. The group of rouges stood in a
circle around the girl, bound to a chair, her parent’s corpses lying dead with
fresh blood pouring from their throats. Among the Rouges stood The Ratmaster,
wearing his tattered cloak, and splitmail armor, lifted from the corpse of a
city guard, his willow brown hair greased back to reveal his aging features,
set into a disgusted, and twisted grimace as he looks her over. “But I have to,
my little porcelain doll…it is the last step of the master plan…with your life
extinguished, your home will be vacant, and your riches…mine.” In the back of
the crowd, stood Alfonse, watching this scene with bitter disapproval, his
father’s words echoing in his head to do the right thing…to save her. Another
horrid slap would be heard, along with a whimper. She spits a spot of blood
onto the opulent rug at her feet. “Enough of this!” Shouted the Ratmaster,
looking back to his pack “You boys have worked for me long enough, it is time
that we settle into our new home-…a new home that wouldn’t be gained without
the aid of one of your own-…Alfonse, my boy Come forth.” Reaching into his
belt, the Ratmaster withdraws the blade, that Alfonse collected only three
years ago, handing it to him. “It is only right that you plant the blow that
changes all of our lives.” Alfonse took the blade stepping towards the girl,
and placing his hand upon her head, against her thrashes, he’d hold the blade
to her throat and quickly fein a glide past it, before quickly sliding it down
to cut her bindings, in the shock of the moment, he lifts her up sprinting
towards the window where shoulder charges against it, and leaps out…away from
the savages he’s called his brothers for years...away from the Ratmaster. With
a heavy thud, he rolls with her onto the cobblestone, a grunt escaping his
lips. He rises to his feet and goes to grab her hand which happily takes his.
As they run off towards an alleyway, her hand becomes limp, and she falls, the
tail-end of a bolt sticking upright from the back of her blonde head. Looking
up to the window he had broken out of, Alfonse exchanges a one last glance with
the furious crossbow wielding Ratmaster, watching him from the warmth of his
promised mansion.

 

        Again, as to be expected, his father was
right, and the streets showed their corruption to young Alfonse that fateful
night. After years of hard work for his mentor, and unknowing destruction to
the city around him, Alfonse finally makes this realization. Perhaps this is
what the boy needed to be set on the right path once more. Following this
incident, Alfonse went home, he held his mother and father close, and began
simple work with his dad, a good start to redemption. However, in his free
time, Alfonse readied himself to right his wrongs in a more physical sense; the
murder of innocents where grounds for the highest of punishments. Death to the
Ratmaster, and anyone that remains loyal to him.

        The
Amber Cold. A light snow dances falls upon the raven haired boy’s person as he
steps down the familiar upscale neighborhood from the night just over a year
ago. He walks alone towards the building with a red flag hanging in its window,
soon two other men follow behind him, then four, then six…soon, Alfonse is
backed by a small army of vigilantes from his slum, work partners, and off duty
town guards. As he enters the square of the now decrepit neighborhood, he looks
to the rouges that now loiter around. They clearly recognize him, and his
followers, rising to their feet and withdrawing cudgels, and blades. The square
begins to fill with the Ratmaster’s pack. Then the man of the hour appears, the
Ratmaster himself emerges from his master bedroom, and looks over the scene, a
wild smile forming upon his face as he shouts out. “The young traitor returns
to take vengeance upon his master? The one that brought him up-…A shame, young
Alfonse, you had so much going for you…but now, your light is to be
extinguished.” With that, the Ratmaster steps inside of his manor, and the
Rouges spring foreword, clashing steel with the Vigilantes, at the heart of the
brawl, Alfonse swings his blade wildly, careful to not kill his targets but to
rather render them immobile. Around him, however his men cut down Rouges, blood
slowly fills the square as men and women die around him for the simple social
cause of class and wealth. A few moments later, Alfonse maneuvers the
battlefield, kicking the door down into the manor, and sprinting up the stairs
to find the Ratmaster in his study, looking over the a small reddened bolt end.
“You’re here to right my wrong, Alfonse? You think that when I lie cold that
all will be better, and you will be at peace. Your hands are stained just as
mine are, boy and there will be nothing you can do to change that.”

“You’re wrong. A man is only as good as he chooses!”

“And you’re a saint?”

“Clearly that is not the case, a saint would refrain from draining you of
blood.”

“Big words coming from a slum rat, boyo!”

And with that, the Ratmaster withdrew his blade, swinging it down in a heavy
horizontal strike towards Alfonse’s chest, but it is quickly parried expertly
by the same techniques the boy had read from the Journal of his youth. In an
instant, Alfonse lunges foreword, quickly burying the long blade into the man’s
stomach, leaning close to him as to push him out on the balcony for all to see,
starring him deeply in the eyes with his cold icy glare.

“I will not humor you fancy swordplay. Your life ends here, In front of your
welps, in the square where you took a young girl’s life away with little cause
but your own.” The Ratmaster would crack a grin and open his mouth to speak,
but he’d be cut short as Alfonse withdrew his blade, and brought it across his
throat, spreading the blood over the now still battle bellow.

        And so Alfonse completed his deed,
brought a much needed end to the street master’s reign of tyranny over the
neighborhoods of the upper class, but things didn’t change for the boy, he and
his men would soon be forgotten, their deeds pushed aside to be recognized as
little more than savage gang violence, and the boy would return back to work,
back home…But this isn’t the end of his journey, no-…the thirst for adventure
still resides within his heart.

        The
Deep Cold.

“Alfonse-…they want to give you a medal, and the captian of the guard offered
you a starting job with promise of command, rethink this…”

The boy was now a man
of nineteen, with a faint grin he placed a bundle of arrows into his quiver,
speaking to her in a gentle tone.

“This city has little
to offer me, mother, It’s time that I make my own way, I’ve got you and father
a steady form of income pouring in from the crown for my deeds…you’ll be safe,
and happy.”

“But we’ll miss you,
Alfonse…You’re our baby.”

He’d hoist the quiver over his shoulder, pulling his mom close to him in a
tight embrace.

“I’ll return a better man, mother.”

With a knowing nod,
she placed a kiss upon his forehead and ran her fingers through his hair once
more before turning him around and pushing him towards the door where his
father waited with a carriage.

“I love you Alfonse.”

“And I, you.”

And with the crack of a whip, the boy was off with his father, to be dropped
off at the dock to start his adventure…Would he be coming back to the capital?
Or does the world still hold plenty of mystery for him to uncover? This is a
tale yet to have been told…

 

       

Ambitions for the Future:

         Alfonse wants nothing more than to become a
great adventurer, regardless of what he does, he wants to make a difference,
preferably for the better. On top of that, the Journal dictates the possibility
of magical knowledge which is something that he is willing to conquer in order
to respark its light in this new world. Once he is old enough, and can provide
well, he’ll purchase a home and settle down with a family, but until then, he
wanders.   

 

Personality: The fellow is the strong willed, brave and stubborn type that
normally ends up face down in a gutter somewhere for their stupidity. He’s a
man of few words, but when he speaks, it is clearly important. Other than a few
of his rouge companions and his family, He’s been for the most part a loner for
the majority of his life, so It’d be difficult to get close to him, but once
one is able to get close to him, he will be the best friend or partner that he
can be, as it is in his nature to succeed or to die trying.  

Skills: Despite being from the slums, Alfonse can read quite well, and
is rather well spoken (For the most part) He’s got the mind of a merchant, and
the heart of a knight, but is cursed with the feet of a traveler, his
wanderlust has become a sort of curse as he finds it difficult making friends,
but in many ways it helps him stay in tune with nature. He’s able to craft
herbal remedies, or deadly poisons from the wilds of the land, in addition,
he’s a skilled huntsman with his bow, knows his way around a lock pick and can
even be a decent fellow to have at your side in a melee.  

Appearance (this must include an in-game screenshot of your skin):

http://imgur.com/u4b3zdz

 

Alfonse is a well kempt traveler and slum-rat which is incredibly suprising,
but he’s always been taught that a good appearance can mean everything. Standing
at just less than six feet tall, Alfonse hosts an athletic runner’s build. His
hair is a sooty black in color and is pressed back behind his ears, and pulled
past his pale blue piercing eyes. On his person, he wears the equipment that he
needs for travel. A pair of comfortable running knickers tucked into thick
leather buckled commoner’s boots. At his waist, he sports a utility belt that
holds his now empty sword sheathe, and two plated side arm quivers, in addition
to his sheathed steel dagger. Over his chest, he dawns an old steel breastplate
that he won during a gamble in his youth with an ancient illegible inscription.
His frame is all tucked close with a traveling duster, dark brown in color
sporting a black sewn on rain cowl.  e

Any other details you wish to share about your character: Alfonse is the start to a completely neutral character with a
clean moral compass, he’s experienced infamy just as much as fame and has a
mind open for most anything. As the creator, I’ve made him to see how the world
around him shapes his morals. I’ve got a story arch ready for him, but I’m not
going to strictly stick to it. I’m very hopeful that I’ll be able to see this
project through.

 

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. Whilst in the mighty human
capital you notice a dark-clothed figure stealthily making his way towards the Emperor’s palace - he is clearly up to no good. There are guards within shouting distance - what do you do?

 

Answer:

“Hm-…Shouting wouldn’t
be the best idea. I shouldn’t spook the fellow.” Alfonse would mutter under his
breath as he stepped after the cloaked figure, walking as to not raise
suspicion, he melds with a nearby walking crowd to the steps of the palace
where the emperor’s holy guardsmen stand watch, upon reaching the base of the
stairs with the figure in sight, Alfonse wraps his hand around the dagger, and
steps forward towards the figure with his free hand extended, going to
purposefully bump into him, at which point, he uses his stumble as a cover to unsheathe
the dagger, and move close. At this point, should the hooded individual find a
need to fight, Alfonse would be able to bury his dagger right into a close soft
spot, speaking audibly so that the passer-bys could hear, Alfonse would
announce; “My apologies, sir-…I should really watch where I’m walking…”

         Without awaiting further reaction from the
figure, Alfonse pulls him in close and whispers harshly into his ear. “If you
make even the slightest move, I’ll gut you like a pig. I’m making a citizen’s
arrest under the flag of the Holy Oren Empire. Do not speak until put on a fair
Bishop’s trial.” At this point, Alfonse flags the guards over frantically, and
smirks to himself, thanking his clever use of his surroundings for the bust.

 

 

2. Whilst wandering in the deep oak forest you
come across a large clearing, in which sits a small cobbled cottage. Outside it stands an unstable
old man armed with a small iron blade, surrounded by two heavily armed bandits - they appear to be threatening him. You are armed with leather armour and an iron longsword, how do you react?

 

Answer:

Looking into the clearing, Alfonse lets out a huff of air, eyes darting from
bandit to bandit. For a moment, he considers his options, but then looks down
to his blade. “It’d be two bodies to bury this way-…no, no…” At that moment, he
notices something; A red pedaled flower…

        At this point, Alfonse steps into the
clearing, hoisting his flask up in the air, staggering towards the two bandits,
his hair tossled through wildly, with red berry war paint spread across his
face. “Greetin’s gents! I’m ‘ere ta’ bring ye’ brown ale fa’ when ya’ done wiv
this sod!” Alfonse crys out in his best slum dialect, looking to the amused
faces of what would appear to be the bandit leader, handing him off the ale, he
allows the violent looking fellow to take a swig, cocking an eyebrow as he
finishes. “ ‘ow was it?”

“S’good, good-…now if you’ll excuse me-…”


 

The bandit would be interrupted
as Alfonse presented a handful of red flower pedals.

“What you just drank, friend is a spot of very, very deadly poison…and without
the pedals in my hand, you will surely die by a violent gut wrenching sickness,
now, leave the man and I’ll give you the antidote, if not…”

Alfonse makes a pantomime knife go across his throat, all the while slowly
unsheathing his blade.


 

“Wot-…you…li’!”


 

As the bandit would
begin to yell for the attack, Alfonse sprung foreward, finishing the blade withdraw,
and effectively burying it into the chest cavity of the bandit leader, just as
he finishes, our protagonist crouches down to the leader’s waist, and withdraws
his two dagger side arms, hurling one towards a charging bandit bezerker to
burry itself heavily in his forehead, stopping him in his tracks like a boar at
a hunt. Alfonse then rotates his hips around and lands a bone shattering stiff
kick to the next bandit’s shin, causing him to fall on his knees before him,
moving the fallen bandit leader’s dagger towards his companion’s throat,
Alfonse ***** an eyebrow to the would be assailant.

“Leave this old man
alone, he’s paid enough debt in his time…Just remember next time you wander
into this clearing that he’s got protection.”

 With that, Alfonse lands a heavy chop to the
bandit’s temple, knocking him out cold. Upon turning to the farmer, Alfonse
requests a drink of water before stepping off, twirling his new dagger in his
palm and whispering a cheerful sea chantey.  

 

 

3. You are standing within the
mighty human capital when you notice a small man standing behind a colourful stall. You approach the stall and notice that the man is selling a variety of
general goods - he says that he is selling just about anything and that he has no set prices. He is willing to allow you to haggle and choose prices. What do you do? (Explain: your haggling, items of choice and the discussion that happens).

 

Answer:

Alfonse groans a bit,
stretching his arms as he begins to look over the wares, going back from the
merchant to the stall.



“You sell anything, hm?”



“yes, anything.”

“Right-…”

Moving his hands
across the table, Alfonse lifts a pair of wooden dice, feeling them in his
palm, and rotating his hand, he lets them sink down his sleeve, and another
pair from within his sleeve roll foreword in a quick slight of hand, Alfonse
presents the dice in an open palm, pointing to a new leather knapsack and a
fresh quiver of newly fletched Oren arrows.



“A bet. If I can predict the roll of these dice the first time through, you
will sell me the knapsack and arrows for the price of only one arrow.”



“I’m not sure about that sir-…”



“Come now! What’s business without a spot of pleasure!”



“…Hm-…fine, fine. Go on.”


 

Alfonse begins to
shake the dice, looking to them thoughtfully, uttering under his breath
purposefully his prediction before announcing it.


 

“Six and five-…Six and
five…”

 

The shopkeeper gulps a moment before the hollow pound of the dice hits his
table and eleven dots are visible on the dice, six on one, and five on the
other. Without hesitation, Alfonse scoops them up, sliding them into his coat,
and letting the two non-loaded ones fall into his hand.



“Wh-…They must be loaded?!”



“Sir-…I only used the dice you sold me…Test them out if you’d like.”



The shopkeeper obliges, rolling the dice only to find that it appears that
Alfonse had a lucky guess. With a low sigh, he announces.

 “One Knapsack, and one quiver of arrows…Six
Mina.”

“Gladly. Here you are.”



Alfonse beams, reaching into his coin purse, sliding them towards the merchant
and receiving his items, quickly stepping off for fear of him being challenged to
remove his coat.

 

(( I'm having issues posting on minecraft's forums  considering my account is new, they are doing some sort of post verification. It should be up over there soon!))

[Peter Chivay 2494]

 

Truly an excellent application, it is a pleasure to accept you. Have fun roleplaying!

[Peter Chivay 2494]

Moved to Accepted Forum

[Zezimus 1523]

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