Chaqery

High Sanatore Toov chuckles, tilting his head to the side as he reads over the message posted on the board.

"Yes, it's zhe intolerance zhat drives zhe Evil in Oren. Zhe fact zhat zhe people und nobility vill not stand idly by und allow ozher races to trample zhem... surely zhe seed of corruption. Nevermind zhe heresy zhat runs rampant due to zhe absence of Emperor Godfrey."

Sighing, he tugs at the buckle of large leather sheath slung across his back, before tucking it back under his pauldron. Fairness and equality were one thing. Losing your native culure and openly accepting former enemies of Man were quite another.

But then again, people would always complain. It was their nature.

The High Sanatore made the sign of the cross over himself before strolling on. The crosses affixed to his pauldrons glimmered a bit in the sunlight.

Emperor Protect.

Captain Toov smiles, as the words reach his ears. He glances down at his White Rose tabard, nodding a bit to affirm that he's not dreaming. He walks through one of the many gates into Krak du Rhoswen, casting an awe-inspired gaze to their new citadel. A patrol of Rose soldiers marches by in formation, each nodding to their Captain.

"Ser Toov. Pleasure to see you again sir."

"Ser Toov", thought the Captain as he slowly made his way to the inside of the massive fortress.

He decided he quite liked the sound of that. Making the sign of the cross over himself quickly, he marched along. God had bestowed upon him a great blessing. Time to carry it out to the best of his abilities.

((I was too, actually.))

[[>Making an Imperial Edict

>Not having Godfrey's approval

>ISHYGDDT]]

Captain Toov rests his hands on the railing, and peers down into the quiet, peaceful town of Rivia. The sun is beginning to set on this frozen part of the world, and in the streets, armored men in pairs march slowly, deep into their own personal conversations. Smoke bellows forth from the chimney of the smithy, and the faint "clank" of metal on metal cuts it way through the backdrop of chatter that surrounds the Captain. Despite the backwoods and lazy appearance of the town itself, Rose Hold, the central point, axis as it were, of Rivia is bustling with life.

Toov turns, and peers into the throne room via the large window. Inside, Thomas Chivay rests on his throne, one leg sprawled out and his chin resting on his fist. Despite his lax appearance, his eyes are fixed on the scout before him who is hastily going through his most recent report. In the corner, behind Thomas, Velwyn Ashford stands, leaning against the wall. Through the slits in the helmet, Toov can barely catch the gleam from Ashford's eyes, and smirks, fully aware that Ashford is already planning around the scout's information.

Smirking, the Captain makes his way downstairs, where he finds a cluster of the White Rose soldiers carrying large crates between them. The crates jingle and clank as the men walk by carrying it, and each nods to the hulking figure of Captain Toov as the go by, muttering, "Sir" and the like.

At a nearby table, the two Sergeants have layed out a map, and are busy marking away notes on it with a piece of charcoal. The lines seem to get drawn, erased, and redrawn as the two bicker over the best choice of action. Deciding to let them take the initiative on their own, Toov moves down the steps and into the kitchen, where he slumps into a seat at the small table with a soft grunt. The beautiful and slender dark elf turns from her work at the stove, and smiles warmly, at which point turning back to his work.

Just at it seems he's found a spot to take a break from the chaos that is a keep during wartime, the kitchen door bursts open,

"Captain Toov, sir. Lord Thomas and Master Ashford wish to speak to you."

"Ja, zhank you Morris. I vill tend to it."

"Of course, sir."

Such is life, right?

Captain Toov sighs, peering down on the figure of the bedridden Chivay. His helmet rests against his hip, held there by the towering figure's left hand. He kneels to the bedside in an attempt to level out the height difference, and extends his right hand to rest upon Peter's chest.

"Rest vell, little Chivay. Ashford und I vill not fail you. I vill see you rise from zhat bed and lead zhe Vhite Rose yet, even if I have to carry you to zhe Cloud Temple myself on my back."

A faint murmur, almost a groan, is all Toov receives in response, and he closes his eyes, standing up again slowly. He balls his right fist, and clutches it over his heart against his cuirass. Lowering his head, he silently vows what he has promise, not forgetting to offer a prayer for Peter's salvation. With a low "Amen" he opens his eyes once more, and turns militantly on his heel (the motion seems second nature), exiting. Upon exiting, he places a hand on the shoulder of Ashford.

"Ve have much vork to do, Ashford. God be vith us."

Captain Toov folds his arms across his chest, reading the piece of propaganda. Around him stand a patrol of White Rose soldiers, who shuffle in the cold, and attempt to look past their towering captain.

With a sigh, Toov tears off one of the multitude of fliers, and folds it, stuffing it into his cuirass. The giant takes a step back, and makes a circular gesture over his shoulder, causing the soldiers clustered around him to nod, and assemble back into formation.

Leric, the Sergeant, speeds up his pace to stand behind Toov's right shoulder, asking,

"But what does it mean, Toov?"

The Captain grunts, shrugging as he leads the column to Rose Hold

"It means ve close and lock zhe gates until ve discover zhe meaning of zhis. I vill inform Lord Thomas... God have mercy upon Oren... surely ve shall need it in zhese troubled times, especially vith Lord Peter bedridden."

Leric nods, and the men continue silently on their way back to Rose Hold. Around them, the snow falls, blanketing the region in white. So pure... so temporary.

For anybody looking at joining a very active, very structured organization that's on the rise quickly, then I highly suggest the White Rose.

Not to mention the very high quality RP. Give it a shot, eh?

The Toov folds his large arms across his chest, his gaze burning a hole through the paper.

Upon completing it, he clenches his fist, slamming it against the nearby wall.

In a quick, violent motion he tears the particular copy of the notice he is reading down, crumpling it in his hands.

"I've failed zhem both zhen... even conscripting zhe boy couldn't save him."

Closes his eyes, again balling his fist. After a moment, he releases a slow, deep breath, and turns crisply on his heel to continue his patrol, mind wondering to thoughts of Ashford's reception of the news.

Minecraft Account Name: Chaqery

How old are you?: 17

Time-Zone/Country of Residence: Central Standard Time, United States

Do you have a good grip on the English language/good grammar?: I certainly like to imagine so as a student in AP Literature and Composition... Not to mention that it's my native tongue.

Small 2-3 Sentence Description of yourself: I'm a highschool junior who enjoys vidya games. Physically, I'm about 5'6, and around 230 pounds. I'm a lineman on my highschool football team, and as a Dwarf Fortress player, I take pride in my neckbeard.

How much time could you be on the server weekly?:That's a hard question for me to answer with anything solid, so I'll answer in the best way I know: As often as possible, depending on my schedule. With summer just around the bend, that will spike dramatically.

What do you know about Roleplaying? Give a definition of what it means to you: I don't aim to brag, but I won't hide my experience either. For the past 2 years I've served as an administrator of various levels on a multitude of RP servers, mostly based from Garry's Mod. I've spent the better part of those two years trying to define Roleplay, and the best way I've come up with thus far is to say that it's writing a story. Roleplay is a large, collective story. It spans across a server, connecting every single character, and turning the mundane into the miracle. Anything (within reason) is possible with Roleplay.

What experience have you had in Roleplaying, if any?: I have about 5 years of experience with roleplay across various mediums and in varying levels of seriousness. I prefer to take it very seriously, but I understand that it's a game, and there are times when having fun and messing around can be just as much of a priority for those around me.

In your own Words, define what the act of Meta-Gaming is: Meta-Gaming is a pain in the ass for Admins, that's what. It's the act of taking information gathered from an OOC source (these forums are a great example), and using it to gain an advantage IC to some extent.

In your own Words, define what the act of Power-Gaming is: Power-Gaming is another issue that keeps the Admins busy. It's the act of either forcing your actions upon another, or playing to win in a manner that's unbeatable. Everybody dies. That's just part of it. Nobody is a demi-god super human tank.

What do you expect this server will be like?: From what I heard from my friends, this server is unlike anything on Minecraft to date. It's as if somebody finally created a true MMO RPG (Emphasis on the RPG), and set it in one of the best original canons I've seen.

What other server(s) have you played on and why did you leave them?: This is honestly the first MC RP server I've been a part of. My friends are much more avid MC Roleplayers than I, and I usually get reviews from them before I even bother joining.

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

Do you promise to abide by said rules, and laws? This includes the Server, Forum, and Teamspeak set Rules: Yes, of course.

How did you hear about us?: Through my friends.

Have you previously made an Application? If so could you link us to your last Application?: Nope, sorry. This is my first go.

Have you posted this application on our minecraft forum thread yet? If not, just finish it up on here and then copy + paste is over there. (http://www.minecraftforum.net/topic/832121-%E2%96%91%E2%96%92%E2%96%93-the-lord-of-the-craft-%E2%96%93%E2%96%92%E2%96%91-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/):

Character Name: Baldir Toov

What Race are you?: Human

What Sub-Race are you? (note, you aren’t required to have a sub-race):

Biography (Please make this at least 2 paragraphs long. This must include the history of your character and his life as well as age, appearance and personality, etc.):

Note: Gaesgro is the name of Baldir's tribe, a group of Northerners known for their exceptionally large builds who fled from Aegis in the wake of the Undead Occupation.

Baldir Toov was born to Tolfdir and Auda Toov, in the frozen wastes around Hanseti. As was customary, the whole of the tribe was gathered around his Father's smithy and hut combination in anxious anticipation of his birth. The large, strong figured women of the Gaesgro were all huddled around his mother inside the hut, doing their various customary duties to aid Auda in child labor. Outside, the din of metal on metal was monumental. Baldir's father was hard at work in his smithy, preparing the master crafted Gaesgro style Battle Axe that in their tribe's culture, was a ceremony befitting of the family's first born son. The axe had to be started when the mother entered child labor, and finished by the time the son was pulled from the womb. All bout Tolfdir, the other men of the tribe had set to work in aiding him. In the distance, you could hear a few of them chopping wood. Still more were carrying the wood to and fro, supplying the smithy's furnace with an endless supply of fuel. From the furnace, a few bricks from the bottom had been removed, and extra below pumps fitted into the gaps. A whole crew of men were hard at work pumping the bellows, keeping the furnace (and more importantly, the precious metal inside) at the precise temperature. Tolfdir himself was hard at work hammering the metal into the proper shape and thickness, and his rhythmic hammering provided a beat for the incantations of the three village elders that stood nearby, blessing the sword in the name of God, and imbuing it with the attributes that were most important to Gaesgro society: Bravery, Strength, and Leadership. As the time wore by, the anxiety was palpable. The large men of the tribe blew their braided blonde hair from their soot covered faced, and always was the continuous "clank" sound of Tolfdir hard at work with the metal, beating it into the proper shape, tempering it, and in the last few hours, engraving the large ebony handle. As Tolfdir finished his work, and sank the blade into the barrel of icy water from the natural spring on top of the great mountain Affe, a loud hissing filled the air. Precisely at that moment, the sound of crying was audible from the interior of the hut. It was done. Tolfdir set down the finished weapon, and wiped his brow. He made his way inside, to see his newborn son, and the village women cleared a path through the room for him. In the arms of his sleeping wife lay the child, healthy looking and peacefully asleep as well. For the first time in his life, Tolfdir sat down and cried.

Growing up, Baldir spent much time in his Father's smithy, pumping the bellows, retrieving the wood and coal, and smelting metal ores into bars. In his free time, his father instructed Baldir in the tricks of the smithing trade, as well as the standard Gaesgro instruction in combat. Baldir developed a passion for both blacksmithing, and the heat of battle, using the two past times to fuel the other. As a smith, Baldir could craft his own armor and weapons, made to fit him perfectly, with the added addition of the intense heat exposure and strength required to forge the equipment increasing his battle efficiency. As his training continued on, Baldir became well versed in the use of claymore and battle axe (as was customary of all Gaesgro men), accustomed to moving fluidly in heavy armor, and adept at utilizing a sword or axe and shield to defend himself. It was these precious years spent training with his father that would very much define who Baldir was, and save him several times on the field of battle.

At 16, Baldir came of age to undertake the right of passage trials to become recognized as a man in his village. To begin, Baldir had to conquer an Orc in combat by himself. While to many in Asulon the feat may seem improbable, one must take into consideration the build of the Gaesgro people. Famed as "half giants", the Gaesgro are considerably larger and stronger than the average human, and as of such much less agile. To take on an Orc was a challenge, sure, but for a Gaesgro, hardly impossible. For his second, and final trial, Baldir was to scale the unforgiving cliffs of the great Mount Affe, and bring back a blossom from the jet black "Todesfall" flower that only grew near the volcanic top of the mountain. This task might seem easy enough for any Asulonian as well, being much lighter and agile, but for a large seven foot Gaesgro male, scaling a sort of cliff is a much more impairing challenge. As he walked the small, horse cart rutted path back to the village, Baldir began to realize just where he was going. This was no longer the journey back from his trials, but his final steps as a boy, and soon to be his first as a man. When he brought the bundle of black flowers to his father, Baldir might have sworn to have seen a tear gather in the old man' eyes, only to be blinked away as he took down the master crafted Battle Axe from the wall, and offered it finally to his son. In Gaesgro culture, the axe is an extension of the man, a symbol of his character and definition of his position. As was befitting, it fell to Baldir to name his blade, and so he named it Dreyrugr, after the blood stained appearance of the metal in the sunlight.

Much to Baldir's surprise, life as a man was much the same as that of a boy. He still worked in his father's smithy, except these days he did most of the work, as Tolfdir in his age had finally lost his deftness in working the metals.

Little did Baldir know his life would soon change forever.

Strange folk began to arrive in the town. They kept to the shadows, and hid their faces under the darkness cast by their large hooded robes. Without the ability to see their faces, the villagers of the tribe were largely unable to gauge the goals of the strange visitors. In time, the mysterious visitors found their way to higher reaches of the great mountain "Affe". Here they found the caves of unimaginable sincerity and beauty, the places where the paragons of the Gaesgro people were buried. The strangers coveted the treasures buried in these caves, and soon began to smuggle the items out of the local area and off into distant lands, it's rich crevices fueling the chaos and wars of their own realm. Meanwhile, down in the village, the people slept restlessly, their dreams filled with shadowy figures digging away at their home and souls. Everyday, the villagers would wake, and stare up at the mountain as it cast it's shadow over the settlement. Why was it bringing darkness into their lives? As the strange visitors smuggled more and more items away, holes began to appear in the side of the mountain, bringing with them a bold and bitter wind that chilled the very souls of the Gaesgro. For the first time, the villagers felt fearful, for they knew that soon the great Mount Affe would stir from it's great sleep. Then there came a sound. Distant first, it grew into castrophony so immense that it could be heard far away in space.

There were no screams.

There was no time.

The mountain called Affe had spoken.

There was only fire.

And then,

Nothing.

That is all Baldir can remember of the last day of his village. At the first signs of trouble from the mountain, his father had mounted him onto their only horse, a very fine and large horse capable of carrying an armored Gaesgro, and sent him off. All Baldir remember was his father telling him to get as far away as possible. And that's exactly what he did.

Baldir soon discovered that finding work in Asulon as a Gaesgro trained in the arts of blacksmithing and combat was as easy as riding into town, or near a castle. He was the sort of armored tank that powered the front lines of the battles the raged across Asulon as lesser factions funded private wars against each other and out of the Ruler's eyes. While not necessarily blessed with intellegence, Baldir was by no means a simple man, and his experience as a blacksmith taught him the lessons of patience and devotion to quality. The countless sieges and battles that he partook of left him with a notion of command, and the intricacies of the tactics used in battle and most importantly successful sieges. Four a young man in his late teens and early twenties, a country full of war was paradise. Working as a sell sword, Baldir was able to roam the countryside, participating in wars almost as he saw fit, all for a small portion of the pillaged loot earned and a free meal. Putting his training to use, he was able to earn the respect of his superiors and experience needed to succeed in his career.

At the age of twenty, Baldir put to work with a few of the mercenary companions he met along his journeys, and established their own company. It became his responsibility to train the company's new recruits in weapon proficiency and tactics, a career choice that landed him where he is today. As the mercenary company's reputation expanded, so too did Baldir's own reputation as a master soldier and trainer develop. On the side, he began taking payment to train the militias and town guards of the lesser factions, a job that eventually pulled him out of the mercenary business. He now finds himself at the gates of Hanseti with nothing but his large axe on his back, and some worn traveling clothes.

In an Age, Place, and Society lacking serious upward mobility, Baldir discovered that all it took was the Gaesgro attributes of Bravery, Strength, and Leadership (and a good bit of know-how), to make a name for himself. And he aims to do the same in Hanseti.

What is your Character's ambitions?: To make a name for himself as being honorable and successful in battle.

What is your character’s favorite tool? (sword, pickaxe, shovel, etc): Baldir prefers his Battle Axe, "Dreyrugr" above all. It was a gift from his father, and in his tribal culture, a symbol of his position.

What is one of your Character's most skilled talents? It has been years since Baldir has worked as a blacksmith, though he still dabbles in the art. For now, he is content to find whatever work comes his way.

A screenshot of your skin (must be in proper format):

Other Information about your Character:

Whilst traveling from the Cloud Temple you see a small halfling, being harassed by two armed warriors. They appear to be trying to steal money from him, how does your character respond?

Baldir's natural instinct would be to help the defenseless halfling. Weapon drawn, and large frame shown off, Baldir would attempt to scare off the robbers with his size initially, and failing that, take the fight to them with everything he's got. He doesn't back down from a fight in defense of others.

Your character wanders into Alras, and comes across a small stall, behind which a well dressed man is standing. He’s offering various wares, the merchant turns to you and says in a posh accent " 'ello there, what can I do you for today?" What is your character response?

Along his travels, Baldir has lost much of his original gear. Accent aside, he would probably attempt to use what little coin on him at the time to purchase himself a few supplies. He's not one to pick a fight over something like an accent. A condescending or taunting tone is another matter, however.

Whilst wandering in the wilds, your character comes across a small hut, which looks abandoned. Inside it you see a chest containing a few iron bars, and a golden sword. How would your character respond?:

Baldir has grass roots in a small village setting. Recognizing this, he wouldn't attempt to steal the unclaimed items, hoping that a stranger would do the same to him.

Hungry and lost in the wilderness, you stumble across a small trading camp nestled among the forest, they greet you you in the common tongue, how do you respond?

Give them a hearty hail and handshake (Fore arm grips work better), and see if they can sell you some supplies. That aside, Baldir would try and tag along with them, offering a bit of free mercenary work in return for finding his way out the wilderness.

You hear word that bandits occupy the road outside the town in which you have been staying. The town guard have gathered, and are asking for assistance to help eliminate them. The leader of the party is offering a reward for any who offer their support. How does your character act on this information?:

Baldir would be the first to step out of the crowd in support of the town guard. Not only could he use the reward, but he might perform well enough to earn a position on the guard... not to mention the gratitude of the townsfolk.