Out-Of-Character:
-Minecraft Account Name: Zaph31
-How old are you?:27
-Time-Zone/Country of Residence: London, UK
-Do you have a good grip on the English language/good grammar?: Yes
-Small 2-3 Sentence Description of yourself: Graphic designer, born and bred in London. Have an unhealthy obsession with typography.
-How much time could you be on the server weekly?: ~10hrs
-How long have you played Minecraft?: 1 year, give or take.
-What do you know about Roleplaying? What is it?: Honestly, not a lot as I'm relatively new to it. But I've read and watched a significant amount of fantasy fiction which has me interested in it. Everybody has to start somewhere!
To me, role playing is coming together with friends and strangers to act out and explore fictitious scenarios within the canon of a specific setting.
-What do you expect this server will be like?: A great community where people actually treat each other with a little respect and consideration.
-What other server(s) have you played on and why did you leave them?: This is the first server I've applied to or joined.
-Have you read, understood, and agreed to the rules?: I have indeed.
-Name the 4 races on this server: Human, dwarf, elf and Orc.
-How did you hear about us?: Friend directed me to your thread on Minecraftforum.net.
-What is your The Lord Of Craft forum account name?: Zaph31
In-Character:
-Character Name: Crooks
-What is your Race?: Dwarf
-Biography:
"Oi! Come 'ere!" The dwarf shouted drunkenly, desperately trying not to fall off his stool. He still owed the tavern keeper for the last one he broke.
Knowing full well he had spent his last mina over an hour ago, the human barmaid tried in vain to ignore him.
"Listen you oversized wench, you refill my mug and I'll tell you a story nobody else knows. It's true too!" The dwarf said with grin.
"And what story could you possibly know that I haven't heard before?" She questioned, unimpressed with his latest attempt to acquire free ale.
"Him, over there." he motioned to another dwarf, sitting quietly alone at the other end of the bar. "Want to know how he got them scars?"
Intrigued, the barmaid sat down, hovering the pitcher of ale in front of the dwarf, like a carrot on a stick.
Smacking his lips, Thogen began telling the story...
"Even from a young age, Storkk's smelting skills were known across the lands. According to bedtime fables, his crucible was made from the heart of a stone dragon which lived long ago. But the few who really knew Storkk would tell you, his love for the craft was only matched by that for Garala, the local armoursmith's daughter.
Gifted with a silver tongue, Kilkk was a successful merchant of few morals and even fewer friends. While far richer than Storkk, he grew envious of his younger brother's standing among the community, something his gold could never buy him.
Incensed upon hearing of his brother's engagement to Garala, who less than a year ago was promised to him by her father in exchange for a better price for his wares, he decides to pay the local armoursmith a visit that night. Begging for his life, the armoursmith tries to explain the deal was a mistake and his daughter is in love - hearing this Kilkk flies into a fit of rage, crushing the armoursmith's skull with one of his own creations.
Using his immense wealth and an unscrupulous bard, Kilkk hastily puts a plan in motion to frame Storkk for the murder of his soon to be father-in-law.
Hearing an angry mob gathering outside his home, Storkk walks outside demanding an explanation. Before he's even able to speak, he's swarmed by the out of control mob. Severely beaten, Storkk is just conscious enough to scream in pain as his beloved crucible is upturned over him, engulfing half his body in molten iron.
Dragged out of town and left for dead, two travelling monks stumble upon a dying Storkk and nurse him back to health.
Horrifically scarred and demanding vengeance, Storkk knows that if the wrong people learn he's still alive, he won't live long enough to find those responsible.
Declaring Storkk dead, Crooks leaves the monks and sets out to Kal'Urguan to begin a new life, hoping to get one step closer to finding out why those he once called friends would do such a thing to him."
"Horsetits!" The barmaid shouted.
"What? No! It's true! What about my ale?!"
Unimpressed and grabbing the pitcher, the barmaid got up, cursing to herself for indulging Thogen's latest drunken ramblings.
But across the room, the scarred man stared Thogen dead in eye, regretting the day he allowed himself to get drunk and say too much...
-Character Age: Half way though his second century, but the scars hide any youth left in him.
-Character Appearance: Heavily scared with a thousand-yard stare.
-Character Personality: Quiet in demeanour and never allows his back to face a door.
-Your ambitions: Vengeance.
-Can your character read or write?: Enough to get by.
-Can your character mine?: Not only can he mine, but he's capable of identifying the very best ore.
-Are you a capable builder?: If the item in question is made to kill someone.
-Can you wield a sword?: Like an extension of his own arm.
-Enjoy Farming?: Only when he has to.
-Does your character have any special skills?: Master smelter and weaponsmith.
-A screenshot of your skin:
-Other Information: None that he offers up freely.
