..

I assumed an admin ban was something else, that is my mistake.

Minecraft IGN(s):

LadyVermin

Discord:

Tnavres#0666

Ban Selection

In-Game Ban

Ban Reason

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/470536061651779584/1044949629076263013/image.png

What circumstances led to this ban?

I am not certain the events that led to my ban, but I know of encounters that happened in the days or weeks before. In one instance, I developed a close friendship with another play, which ended after I had a delusional breakdown in private DMs with them. I was blocked, and I apologized the next day. They requested I did not talk to them, and so I did not contact them further. In another instance, this played out again almost exactly. I developed a friendship (though not close in any manner of speaking) and had several delusional breakdowns in private DMs. I apologized each time after, and these apologies were accepted in DMs. Some days later, maybe a week later, I was banned. Since this has transpired, I have been re-medicated for my schizoaffective disorder. The disorder, which causes me to spiral often in delusional episodes (such episodes often had me speak of nonsensical things such as angels, religion, and inherent worth), is now medicated, and I have not had an episode in several weeks. This disorder though cannot be completely to blame, and I acknowledge my poor choices in the matter, such as attempting to develop close friendships in the first place and exposing these friends to things better fit for a therapist.

Are there aspects of the ban you agree and/or disagree with?

Though I agree that my actions were worthy of punishment, I would disagree that I harassed anyone as the ban reason states. In all instances when I was asked to not speak with someone, I listened. I also believe, with that in mind, that a permanent ban is harsher than necessary.

What motivates you to return to LOTC?

There are very little creative venues like LOTC. It offers a unique experience of high quality roleplay within a medium that facilitates decently paced responses, which is something I simply have not found anywhere else.

Attach other relevant information.

There is nothing more that I can think of.

MC Name:

         boy_girl

Character's Name:

         Amalric

Character's Age:

         18

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

         Human

Transformed form:

         Phantom

Creator's MC Name:

         N/A

Creator's RP Name:

         N/A

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

A phantom is a creature, or rather, the soul of a formally living descendant, who has been brought back to the mortal realm through interruption of their travel to Ebrietaes. This is not always right after their death, and can take several years. When someone first returns as a phantom, specifically a revenant, they have no memory of their death, or even possibly their life, and they are not aware they are dead. However, once they begin to discover that they are no longer alive, they move onto the next phase.

All phantoms are made of ectoplasm, and are vulnerable to aurum and magic, though are typically immune to the standard damaging methods as they are not often physical, or even visible. They will return after one day once they've been 'killed', as they restore their ectoplasm. Phantoms come in stages, or forms, with a Revenant being a temporary stage that phantoms begin in. 

Revenants are grey colored phantoms. They're confused, and lost, with their memories muddled, and are unaware of their death. They're the weakest of the phantoms and do not have a grasp on their undead abilities yet. They are miserable and prone to sudden mood changes, due to the nature of their existence and the fact that all phantoms suffer from horrible mental illness that comes with undeath. These revenants are compelled to find out who they were and what happened to them. It is then that they may use their abilities to sap the spiritual essence from mortals, cursing them with memories of the phantoms life and altering their personality. When done enough, this can cause the Revenant to reflect, and they will move on to one of the next stages in unlife.

Poltergeists can generally be considered the 'evil' phantoms. They are revenants who could not come to terms with their death, and have turned black with distress and trauma. Like revenants, their form is less composed, shifting and being untouched, but they are far more horrifying in visage, displaying hideous features and graphic displays of their demise. They tend to be animalistic in appearance and in mind, as well as being rather powerful in control and use of their undead abilities. They have the unique ability of possessing corpses, and can inflict negative emotions, and their shapeshifting tends to take on more monstrous appearances. 

Specters are the 'peaceful' phantoms. They have come to term with their death and have dealt with the mental turmoil that comes with it, for the most part. They are typically white, or blue, or yellow, and have no wounds or sign of death on their form. Their forms are most similar to their own, and far less intimidating than a Poltergeists, and much more defined than a Revenant's. They are also the only phantoms who can tolerate sunlight, though it is still uncomfortable. They tend to be beautiful in visage and voice, in an ethereal way. Like poltergeists, they can shapeshift, but their forms take on more peaceful variations, usually of herbivore species of animals, and have a peaceful and calming aura. 

Graven are unique from the other phantoms, in that they are phantoms who were so strong of will and passion that they willed themselves back onto the material plane. They are grey, purple, or green in color, and have physical forms. They lack almost all of the other abilities that other phantoms have in exchange for physical form again. They maintain they strength they had in life and can not have it increased through conventional means. They are less susceptible to physical damage than the average mortal, but are still vulnerable to aurum and magic. They take longer to heal than other phantoms, due to having a physical body, but still can return after being unalived. Gravens are dedicated entirely to their task and will become unhinged if stopped from pursuing their goal, becoming depressed or violent. The aura they put off is one of indomitable will, causing others to be slightly pulled into also wanting to achieve the Graven's goal, though this is no way can change anyone's opinion or goal by itself. Gravens can also manifest a tool, or weapon, to aid in their goal, which is made of ectoplasm. 

I am planning for this character to develop into a Graven, if everything is good and accepted. 

If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

As a Revenant, Amalric will appear as he did in life, though his color will be entirely grey, and his features lacking, coming in and out of focus randomly. He will be slightly marred by his death, with blood lightly staining his clothes near his wounds.

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         No.

Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

         N/A.

Do you understand that if this creature's lore is undergoing an activity trial and that trial fails, you will no longer be able to play this creature and will be forced to either revert the character back to its normal form (if it was a transformative type) or stop playing the character entirely (if it is an entirely new creature)?:

         Yes.

Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

         I understand

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         No

Amalric was a mystery to many. Few had ever seen him. Fewer knew his name. He just seemed to appear one day, always lingering in the shadows, just out of sight, just behind his employer. And he died just as quietly as he lived. He never lived to see his 18th birthday. It is surprising to some that he lived to see his 17th. Indeed, Amalric, though a quiet sort, lived an extremely dangerous life. He spent every waking moment surrounded by beasts and monsters, demons and devils, clowns and queens. Power was always within reach, but it was not his to have. He didn't want it. Indeed, he spent all of his life advancing others to their goals. Where did this loyalty get him? In pieces.

Pieces..
Morgan can remember the blast. The cannon fire, the volleys that impacted all across Yong Ping. She was just trying to help. She was just trying to be useful. Where did this need to be useful get her? In pieces. The shrapnel tore her limb from limb, cut through her organs and her flesh, diced her apart. She was never supposed to survive it. When an alchemist plucked her mangled body from the wall and carried it away, she was not conscious to see what he did. Til the day she died, Morgan was never sure if she'd have rather had him just leave her. It would've been less trouble, for everyone. She wouldn't have had to do what she did.

It'd be a lie if Amalric said he wasn't the vindictive sort. He didn't think he was. So many people had wronged him, but he never gave it any thought. But no matter how many days and years passed, he could not let go of what Karl Amador did to Morgan. His employer, so many times, had told him to stay out of Haense to avoid conflict, but many days were spent sitting. And watching. Watching Karl, watching Petra and Sigismund. And Karl... He had moved on from Morgan. He had gotten himself a wife, and children. A wife. And children. It made Amalric sick. Had Karl forgotten what he'd done to Morgan? All the suffering he caused to his first kiss?

Kiss..
In truth, Morgan never expected it to go this way. Karl was never on her mind romantically until that very night they kissed. It was funny, almost. When she was a beggar on the streets, her eyes followed Petra Emma. No one noticed her, the way she stood back and observed Petra and Karl talk. She wanted to approach, to ask for food, or for a friend, but she was shy, and words were trouble. But it was Karl who approached and put food in her hands, and declared himself her friend. She so desperately wanted friends. Someone to follow, someone to give her meaning. She found it that night in someone else, someone who'd lead her astray, ultimately. Someone she'd fall in love with. But Morgan fell in love with so many people. A crush on Karl. A crush on Sigismund. A crush on Petra. A crush on Hesperia. At the time, Karl was the only one who returned her romantic advances. She was so sure they were meant to be. Foolish.

He didn't intend to cause such a scene. But he enjoyed every moment of it. Walking into that tavern, reminding Karl, and everyone, of who Morgan was. What he'd done to her. It felt good to be vindictive. To finally make someone scared and regretful. He wanted to punish Karl for forgetting Morgan, for getting her killed. No one knew who Amalric was. They couldn't. He didn't exist, he wasn't a person. He had no paper trail. He liked it. He liked that he seemed to be a ghost of Karl's past, coming to haunt him for all the wrong he'd done. Wasn't that exactly what he was? He was a ghost. A memory forgotten. And of course, Karl being Karl, all he could think about was the assassins.

Assassins..
She never wanted it to come to this. Morgan didn't ask for this. But she enjoyed it. She was.. vindictive. Karl never noticed her. He ever even saw her among those who came to kill him. How could he have? She was dressed in armor like the rest. It was all his fault. He had caused so much trouble. From those who wished to do her arm to the ones she lived with yelling at her and demanding to know who she told. Who had she told? Who did you tell? She didn't tell anyone, none but Karl. No one else knew what was required to get her back onto her feet. He said he wouldn't tell anyone. She trusted him. She loved him, but he denied her and spread word of her condition to all who would listen. The rumor came from Haense. It had to have been him. 

It was not Amalric who sent the assassins. He was more subtle in his maneuvering. He was a private person, he preferred man to man talks, in secluded locations. His revenge was quieter, the way he stalked Karl and Petra and Sigismund. Attended their balls. Watched Sigismund dance. Watch Petra and the boy she courted dance. He even tried talking to her at the time, his mind not so bent on causing suffering. He just wanted her to be his friend again. He wanted to have that tea..

Tea..
Morgan and Petra were supposed to have tea. She was going to have a friend, despite how disfigured she'd been made. Karl abandoned her, Sigismund called her a wretch, but Petra spared her those small kindnesses. She never got to have the tea, because of Karl. Morgan cried about it often, though she'd tell no one. She wanted so desperately a friend, she'd lost everyone. And she would continued to lose. Her sense of self, her identity. Her name. Her appearance. To avoid those who would hunt her, who would ask questions on her appearance, they fixed her. They made her acceptable again. They made her..

Amalric didn't have any friends for some time. When he came back from that ball, so upset that he'd been invited and then ignored by Petra, so enraged at the success of Sigismund and Karl, he was told by Hesperia to never return to Haense, for it only caused him pain. But he was obsessed. He'd put so much time and emotions into the trio, he cared so much about their lives, that he returned anyways. Every month, to watch them, to follow them, to listen. Who was he if not for his attachments? Was he a person? He'd been a person. He'd been several people, in fact. So many names, so many faces. And for what? Was this not what being a person was? Caring? Trying to make friends? Being hurt and hurting in turn? Was that not humanity?

He'd spent 10 years in the service of Hesperia Von Drakenhof. He loved her. He was obsessed with her. Every second at her shoulder. If he knew her location, then he was there, whether she invited him or not. Amalric was her eternal servant. He changed his name for her. He changed his appearance for her. He lived for her, and he would've killed for her. He would die for her. He did die for her. He'd given everything up but her. He lost his friendships, those he'd known. He agreed to marry her, because he thought was what she wanted. He did everything for her. Though, in the quiet hours of the night, he would know in his heart that he did it for himself. 

It would take years to unravel the thing that Amalric was when he died. It would take longer to unravel the circumstances of his death, and his relationship with Hesperia Von Drakenhof. Only she could truly tell the complicated and tragic story of his life, and even she didn't know him completely. 

And this is how he ends. An unfinished story. A mystery unfounded. A tragic ending to a tragic life of a tragic child. 

 

It's a series of moments. Quick. A moving picture show. The world's most hectic play.

He had rushed to grow up, but he missed his childhood when it was gone.
"Sometimes you're going to have to apologize for **** you shouldn't have to apologize for." The adult said. Llokir scoffed at the words being spoken to him. How would Ehrendil understand any of this? He couldn't. You don't back down, you don't roll over, and you don't apologize. He was young, but he knew, the moment he let himself look like a door mat, he becomes a door mat. 

There were things he should've apologized for, that he never did.

The boy's eyes settle on the goblin, bewildered. "What'z wrong, orc bruddah?" She asks. Fire raises in his throat, his face flushing. She couldn't even put two words together, but he still put together her intentions. "I'm not your brother." He spits out. Never would Llokir let himself be compared with a blah speaking, practically feral uruk. He was far too civilized. 
"Mi know you aren't mi momo'z kubby, but you ah fellow orc!" She says. So excited. It's almost endearing. He wants to be friends with her- she's about his age. They looked similar. It'd be like having a sister. He wanted a sister. Her name is En'ara, he later learns, too late to befriend her. She would have been a good influence, but yet.. "Hardly the same as you, I'm sure." He says, indignant. He never learns. He never changes.

He had potential. So much potential. He could've been anything.
 "Don't really know. A doctor? An actor? A scientist?" He shrugged in response to the question, asking what he wanted to do when he was older. "I want to be a lot of things, but most of all, I want to be exceptional. I want to impress the people back at home. Let em' know I'm not some goblin kid who punches little girls or whatever." Llokir Hawksong swings his arms by his side idly, playing with his cape. La'io Valkryne nodded slowly as he chewed on some of his own thoughts. "You wouldn't ever hurt anyone intentionally, ti?"
Llokir scoffs at the question. "Ne. I've hurt people on purpose, and I'd do it again. People try to hurt me, I hurt them back."  Always out for the last laugh, the demonstration of his bravery and foolishness. The signal that he's not a coward. He's not. 

How was it any different than before? He'd done it so many times.
"What was that, child?" The elf asks. Air. Llokir doesn't know his name at the time, but he learns it not much after. The adult puts his hand on his sword. It's one of the defining moments in his life, he thinks. It means nothing in the moment. Llokir swipes his cape to the side and puts his hand on his own sword. He's ready to fight. He's seven years old. Stupid.
Aeravir is by his side. The boy was always by his side. Llokir fancied him, a childhood crush, but he never pursued it. The ordeal results in nothing, Llokir thinks. No one stands up for him, except for Aeravir. Foolish, headstrong Aeravir. Llokir doesn't like the trait when he can see it in others. He never turns the judgement inward. He never thinks to.
"I'll deal with those sorts as they come. I always have, and I will, until I die." Llokir had said to Aeravir. Stupid.

He recalls the first time he ran into them. 
"I don't care, I will never go to Krugmar." Llokir spits, his sword drawn and pointed at the Uruk. They had tried to convince him to return to his people. As if he would betray his family like that! He was better than that. He was civilized. He was exceptional. He was not like them. The boy refused to prove everyone right. 

And he thinks of all of the things he promised to those he loves.
"Will you wait for me too?" It's a heartbreaking question, Llokir thinks. In the moment, the answer is a yes. An immediate yes. But he doesn't say it, because he knows it's not true. Llokir Hawksong grimaced some out of hesitance. "Well, I- I'll come back when you're an adult too. But-"
Aeravir seemed satisfied with that. "Okay. As long as you come back." The younger boy murmured.
"I'll always come back for you." He replies. His chest aches. Aeravir lifts up his pinky with a beaning smile. "Pinky swear?"
"I promise." Llokir lied, hooking their little fingers together. 

So many warnings.
"Zometimez etz bettah tah remove youhrzelf from thah zituatchun, wit' wordz ohr runnin'...." But it wasn't fair. It's not fair. Why should he back down?
"You're basically digging yourself a hole, very quickly." He was in the right! Why should he stop? Why should he apologize? So many questions in his head.
"After a certain point, it becomes your attitude that brings trouble." You're blaming me, he thinks.
"Your words have consequences, I'm asking that you be careful!" He has every right to be angry, he thinks.
"You need to watch how you talk to others. For all you know, next time you act like that and fight someone, they might just kill you."  She was right.
"There is a difference between being weak and continuously getting yourself hurt!"

The memories are vivid. Some are nice. Some are painful. He doesn't want to remember them. There are so many more that he could be thinking of. His time with his father. His constant riffing with Kindrel. Watching his sisters grow. Their screams and whines were awful in the moment, but they're pleasant memories now, memories of freshly plucked babes who would never shut up. He can still hear Merku screaming.
Merku is screaming and crying. She's begging. He can hear her, but he thinks he shouldn't be able to. Llokir is screaming too. He's in agony. This is not a memory. These are his dying moments. He can not feel his arms, but he is distinctly aware that they are moving, trying desperately to stop the dagger that cuts his throat. He is twelve years old. Merku is five. He is not a painter. He is not a doctor. He is not an actor. He's nothing now, but a memory.
 

Question 1: What is one thing you dislike about Orcs/Krugmar? How can it be improved?
Blah is the worst. It's meant to sound silly and stupid and it can not be taken seriously. It makes most interactions with orcs joking ones.

Question 2: What is one thing you like/admire about Orcs/Krugmar?
The Krugmar cities and buildings are some the best looking ones IMO. Nice area. Great atmosphere.

Question 3: What do you think Orcs/Krugmar biggest opportunity for improvement is?
No clue, I'll just take any opportunity to talk about how I don't like blah.

MC Name:

         BigCassidy

Character's Name:

         Rys'Ok

Character's Age:

         23

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

         N/A

Transformed form:

         Olog.

Creator's MC Name:

         N/A

Creator's RP Name:

         N/A

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

Ologs are the largest and most powerful of descendant kind. No one knows their origin for sure. despite certain theories about trolls. They're the stupidest of the races too, it seems, and are very animalistic in nature. Though they're surely people, with emotions and feelings, they perhaps are not the best at wording this. They're subservient once they've been fed, as their mind works in a need-based way. They're unlikely to survive past 100 due to their warlike nature, but it is possible that they're helped along by someone else. After all, they're very dependent on others to help care for them. This doesn't mean they can't survive on their own, but in an modern society, or even an Uruk society, they typically requires other to lead them and direct them, due to their learning.. disabilities.

If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

As stated before, Ologs are the largest of the Orcs, standing anywhere between 8 and 10 feet tall, though typically they dont grow taller than 9 feet. They weight around 550-600 lbs on average and can lift twice as much as another orc. Their skin tends to stick to similar colors of other orcs such as green, red and browns (Though black and purple are possible). Their eyes are similar, sticking to the rather mundane natural colors of other humanoids. Their hair is typically black or brown, and can rarely be other natural colors. Size does not change for each sex.

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         No.

Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

         N/A.

Do you understand that if this creature's lore is undergoing an activity trial and that trial fails, you will no longer be able to play this creature and will be forced to either revert the character back to its normal form (if it was a transformative type) or stop playing the character entirely (if it is an entirely new creature)?:

         Yes.

Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

         I understand

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         No.