Out-Of-Character Details
Minecraft Account Name: Phie
How old are you?:18
Time-Zone/Country of Residence:United States-Mountain Time
Do you have a good grip on English grammar and the English language?:I believe I do, as nobody really complains about my writing.
Have you had any previous experience in roleplaying?: I have been roleplaying on forums for about six years, and I have recently taken up table-top roleplaying as well. I’m still new at roleplaying through a video game.
Have you read and understood and agree to the rules?: Yes!
How did you hear about the Lord of the Craft?: I found a video advertisement on youtube some time in 2011 and I think I might have applied… but I kind of just remembered that this place existed the other day.
Link any previous applications you have made to the Lord of the Craft: I might have one from a year ago, but I don’t recall the name or have a link of it. Sorry! :c
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/! : Posted there!
Definitions
In your own words, define what the act of roleplaying is:
Roleplaying is taking on a character and acting out as if you are that character, and making decisions that you believe your character will make. You aren’t in complete control of your character’s “story” as your relationships with other characters and unscripted events can and probably will steer your character through all that life struggle and character development goodness.
In your own words, define what the act of meta-gaming is:
Meta-Gaming occurs when a character knows something through OOC means, like skype or teamspeak. You can’t just pretend that your character knows where the big evil army is camping at because the great prophets of Skype told you or something.
In your own words, define what the act of power-emoting is:
Power emoting occurs when you use an emote action that doesn’t let the other roleplayer respond to fairly. An example of this is like *Evil Steve stabs Nikita in the gut, leaving her bleeding out on the road begging for mercy* Nikita: “What? I’m not going to beg-” *Evil Steve then bottles Nikita’s blood to feast on evil castle of evilness and gags the dying woman, so she should shut up*
…This example might be a little extreme.
In-Character Details
Character Name: Nikita Kanin
Character Race: Human
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:
((sorry about the wall of text :C))
I was born in a village that we called Jadell, a little jewel stuck in the center of a vast an unforgiving desert. We are a sheltered people, with my generation never meeting another race, never experiencing a swim in the ocean or a winter with snow, and never having to enter a war.
However, we weren’t a defenseless people. We had the desert guard, a brave group of all of our able bodied men to fight and protect the people of Jadell. A year after my birth, the desert guard proved their worth against the evils of a witch and the monsters she raised in the desert including the corpses of our ancestors. My father, a high ranked lieutenant of the guard, was the one brave enough to slay the witch in the caves she hid in, bringing back her head for the village to see. We still aren't sure if she was an actual witch or one of those "magic users" I've heard about but at the time it didn't matter. He was regarded as a hero of Jadell, and quickly rose through the ranks to become captain of the guard, one of the most powerful positions of the village. I was proud to be his daughter.
Except I wasn’t, really. My mother hid from the both of us, that I was some bastard child of her and the town’s schoolteacher. It didn’t really show, most people from the town looked similar: dark sandy skin, dark brown hair, lack of pointy ears- that was the norm. My eyes, though, matched those of the man who taught me how to read and write and do the basic maths. However, that evidence wasn’t enough to tip my father off, so he and I remained blissfully ignorant of my true lineage. It was probably for the best that my true father never really got to know me; after all I was one of his more snotty little students. My dad and I were never very good at the maths, and I thought I didn’t need it. I was going to be a member of the desert guard one day, just like him.
My father and I were incredibly close, close enough for him to badger the other members of the guard to let me train with the other squires. He knew I could handle the arduous work of being a squire; I was practicing the sword with him since I could pick up a pen and write. The others were fine with his appeal; he was the one in charge of the guard after all. I worked and trained with him and the other squires until I reached the age of about seventeen or so. I was so close to becoming a member of the guard, I could feel it in my bones, but of course that was when my mother had to suddenly grow a conscience. She told my father what had happened, and who my real father was. She told me as well, but the news remained hidden inside the household.
At the time, I hadn’t the slightest idea what in the desert possessed my father to turn so sour. Now, thinking back with a wiser mind, I could probably understand how he was feeling. Even leather-skinned heroes of Jadell could be hurt, regardless of how skilled they were in battle, and my mother wounded him deeply. I was too terrified for my own skin at the time to notice it, but he upset, angry, and damaged. He was lied to, his pride was stomped on, and the child he had raised like his own was some bastard spawn to a man he had little respect for.
Now, I’m not trying to justify his actions. Sure, I understand how he felt… but I would never forgive how he acted on those feelings.
At first, there were only little changes. He was a hero after all, and it would be strange to act out on his loving wife and daughter. We stayed with him, and I continued my training with the desert guard. I was obsessed with my training then, as my “father” pulled me out of the schoolhouse in order for me to spend more time training with the sword. He would take me and my th’other greenies out for certain trials: simple things, such as huntin’ down stray boars or sparring with each other. I was watched like a hawk by my father, so every little slip of my hand was caught by the man. I was punished for it, one day, in front of all the squires. They all stood there silent, terrified as I was as I received my beatin’, watched as I was thrown to the ground so hard that my palmwood blade splintered into pieces. I tried my best not to show any emotion, ‘specially not tears. All I could think of was the shame I brought to my family, ‘specially my father if I took that punishment like a coward. I… I actually felt proud when I came home, black eye an’ all, tellin’ my mother that it was nothing.
But then this became a regular occurrence. Nearly every day I was beaten, to the point where my mother forced me to stay home an’ away from the training grounds. My father didn’t cut me out of the trainin’ though… I don’t think he wanted to get rid of his little outlet. My peers, many now members of the desert guard, regarded me as a failure, something expected of my gender. They began to believe that I wasn’t capable for this kind of work. I began to believe ‘em, but my father still encouraged me... probably to give me a chance to abuse me more. Once my wounds finally healed, I went down to the trainin’ ground, and he tossed a stone sword at my feet. He smiled warmly at me, the first time since he heard the truth about my birth and I was practically glowin’.
“I might make a guard out of you yet, my little Nick,” he told me, “You’ve shown that you’ve got the grim determination an’ willpower to be ah guard. All that’s left for you is pass the final trial, like all of your peers.”
If I wasn’t glowin’ before, I was now. Finally, finally I would get to be a part of the desert guard. I knew all about the final trials, they were usually somethin’ simple like guardin’ the gate for a night, or dueling with a member of the guard. Nothin’ I couldn’t handle-
“Your trial is simple: you must survive two weeks alone in the desert.”
What. That was impossible; he had to know it was impossible. We were the only source of water for miles, and one could be easily killed by the beasts that crawled out of the sands at night before the lack of water got to ‘em. The shock must have crept on to my face because he began to question my dedication to the guard. It looked at him, an angry determination burning inside me.
“I-I’ll do it. You’ll see.”
That morning I left for the desert with my new weapon and a canteen full of reservoir water. That night, I realized that he was probably trying to kill me. The monsters were unrelenting to a young human who is foolish enough roam among them at night. I fought as best as I could, but by the time dawn came, my body was riddled with spider bites and marks that were similar to human teeth. I was lucky that the injuries weren’t worse, but I knew I couldn’t last another night alone. I thought about returning to the village, but I knew I couldn’t. He wanted the desert to kill me; if I came back, he’d just do it himself. Throw me in the dungeon, perhaps; maybe claim that I was stealing away the water. They’d believe it, probably. He was the hero, after all.
I chose to make my way out of the desert, walk as far as I could until my legs buckled under me. I did just that, though when night came I tried to hide among the hills of sand. It worked- almost; I made it another night without too much damage until one of those bow wielding beasts got a good shot in my back. I snipped off the length of the arrow and tried to keep walking, but the mounting pain of all my wounds made me collapse. I passed out in the rockier corner of the desert believing that I was goin’ to die.
Until I felt something mildly painful bash me in the head.
”Ah!” I groaned, rolling around weakly. I realized from the gravel scraping across my face that I was being dragged. Struggling to speak, I croaked out, “Who’s got me!? Let me go!”
“Damned stones,” A man grumbled, dropping my leg, “Calm down, lass. Found ye dyin out in that desert, thought I’d fix ye up because that’s the kind of man I am!”
I struggled to sit up, noticing the blue tents and the prescense of grass and plants that didn’t look anything like the palms of the oasis, ”W-Where are we? Some strange oasis?”
“I thought you could tell me, lass,” He said, tossing over a full canteen, “My company just got off the boats from Asulon and wanted to go explorin’ but I guess you beat us to it. Anything… ye know… worth our while out there?”
“Thank ye for the water,” She croaked, taking a moment to suck the water down, “B-but I don’t know what ye are talkin’ about. What is an Asulon?”
The man was shocked that I didn’t know about the land he and his company fled from, explaining the history of the land and why the fled to this one… Elysium. The Aegis name sounded familiar to me, as it was brought up as the origin of our ancestors who fled from the land due to the troubling forces brewing there. I told the man about the village and our oasis as well as the guard and my father. I told them our main wealth was water and food… both of which were running scarce at the moment. Visiting that town would have been foolish… as most outsiders are captured and dispatched with on the spot. He and his company were thankful that they got that information before they were captured and killed. They offered to let me travel with them back to the more populated centers of the isle, as they weren’t going to bother with the hostile desert without more combat capable “explorers”. In return, I tried to help defend the caravan at night, even while I was recovering from my wounds.
When we reached the docks, I was astounded with the ships and their beauty… but the ocean was even a greater sight. However, now I am alone once more in such a strange land, but I have hope. This world is far better than the one I escaped from, which is enough to keep me alive and happy.
What are your characters ambitions?: Nikita hopes to find a place in this new world where she can finally forget about her home village in the desert. She is unsure if she wishes to take up her sword again for another order, but it is willing to defend the country from a greater threat if one should arise.
Please provide an in-game screenshot of your skin here: http://oi46.tinypic.com/vx0txc.jpg
Is there anything else you would like to say about your character:She kind of has an inferiority complex going on and is pretty easy to trick… a pair of personality traits that one can easily take advantage of.
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 heard about Arethor and the rumors true. If they put the city next to “mighty” in the word-book, I’d know how to use that word so much better. Shocked by the sights, I drop my pack and take it all in on a nearby bench. I must have looked like a fool or somethin’, for this enterprising Dwarf called out to me from his stall the instant he saw me and my pack. Nervous, I held my pack of food close to me an approached:
“Aye dere, Lass! See somethin’ ye thinkin’ ‘bout puchasin’?”
“…Uh… I don’t-”
“Finest books and weapons in the land, lemme tell ya? Have you read the stories of me people? I got the truest of tales, right ‘ere!”
I raise an eyebrow. Sure, I’m not the bookish type, but the stories of the other races sounded pretty interesting for someone like me. Such tales were lost to me in my village. “I… I’m sorry, I would love to but I don’t have-”
“Ah, say no more! I’ll give you these books if you trade me the stuff in your pack.”
“B-but all I have is this meat I hunted I don’t think it’ll be enough for your stories.”
“Ah, but I am willing tah make a discount for you, lass! Hand the meat over and we’ll call it a fair deal.”
“Oh, Okay! Thank you so much!” I said happily, tossing him my best slices of venison. Soon I managed to have in my hands the great Dwarven tale called The Wisest Merchant who Made Ah Livin’ Off the Unaware!
…Wait.
I turned around, and the merchant was gone. I sighed, and trotted off. Ah well, replace the cover and it’ll be a good journal, with those blank pages an’ all. …Though a visit to the guard might be in order.
You’re wandering the Oren Road late at night, when a large Orc begins to threaten a nearby dwarf. There is no help nearby, and the situation looks like it will escalate into violence soon, what does your character do?
I yawn, not enjoying the night treks across the land. I should have just waited until it was morning. I just wanted to curl up and sleep in a cot somewhere. Ahead, I notice a pair arguing.
“You lost bet. Pay up or I beat you!”
“I’ll pay up when your mum stops smellin’ like a worm-addled pig pen!”
“Wat did yew say bout me mum!”
“Aye, you heard me!”
I winced as the dwarf was shoved against the torchpost violent. I knew as an honorable woman that I should probably help, but those Orcs looked as wicked as the desert sun. I know my limits, and swinging my stick sword at that beast of a creature wasn’t goin’ tah do much.
Hmm… beasts.
My eyes flicked to the dark woods nearby, the sound of bones clattering and splintering audible to those who take a deep breath and listen. Yes… perfect.
I run into the wood, grabbing the attention of the creatures inside. I sprinted for the pair as soon as the horde of beasts began to gather behind me. The orc and dwarf turned to the commotion, the orc scowling.
“Help me!” I called out in the girliest voice I could muster.
An arrow wizzed past my ear and stuck into ground near the orc’s foot. He scowled, drawing his club at the skeleton who shot it.
“We finiz dis lader” He grumbled, running off to club the skeleton to bits.
“This way!” I said, smiling impishly at the Dwarf, who was happy to comply. Nobody wanted a orc breathing down their neck this late at night.
While running, he turned to me and asked “Ye have an idea how to get rid of these monster, right?”
“Uh… well, I thought that they would get tired of chasin’ us eventually.”
“Ugh… well thought out idea right there, lass!” he groaned.
“Well, it’s better than goin’ back to the inn tah say you lost to an Orc, right?”
“Aye, fair enough, lass, fair enough.”
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?:
I yawn as I walk down the road to Malinor, happy to finally have a peaceful, non-eventful day of traveling. Of course, whenever I think about how quiet the roads were, something noisy always happens. I hear the chiming of coins hitting the ground ahead of me, and as I looked up from the ground I was oh so closely surveying, I noticed the elderly man fallen, unable to get up. I run to meet him before a greedier folk notices the coins, and begin collecting them without telling the man.
“Hey! That’s my life savings, lass! I’ll die without them!”
“Just collectin’ them for you, sir,” I said with a smile, shoving them in a spare pouch I found the other day, “Mayhap you shouldn’t be travelin’ with your life savins, sir.”
“I suppose you are right, miss,” He said, looking towards the sky, “I-I just wanted to live my final years out by the sea, you see… but I don’t think I’ll manage the voyage.”
I look at the man and sigh. Poor fellow. “Here… I can get you to Malinor, get you a new stick and all that. Maybe someone there will be willing to travel with you to the ocean. If not... I guess we can go together.”
“Oh, lass, I can’t trouble a stranger like yourself-”
“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that. I’ve been meanin’ to see the sea once more. Methinks it’s one of the better sights in the world.”
