SylvaLia

Out-Of-Character Minecraft Account Name: LaRioux How old are you?: 21 Time-Zone/Country of Residence: EST, United States Do you have a good grip on the English language/good grammar?: Yes, I'm a native English speaker. Small 2-3 Sentence Description of yourself: Hey, I'm Cassie. I'm currently an Art Student majoring in Graphics Technology and Web design. In my spare time I like to do nerdy things such as play Minecraft servers. :) How much time could you be on the server weekly?: Approximately 7 hours a week, hopefully sometimes more than that. I am often busy with school, and I also share this computer with my boyfriend. What do you know about Roleplaying? Give a definition of what it means to you: Roleplaying is essentially putting yourself in someone else's shoes, and acting as they would act in any given situation. In text roleplay this would involve writing out the character's feelings and actions and describing them as your own. In live action roleplay you would simply act out whatever your character would do and speak as they would speak. What experience have you had in Roleplaying, if any?: I've dabbled in Roleplaying since I was still in grade school, so probably about 9 years now. I started out in AOL chat rooms all the way back in the day, and have participated in forum roleplay too. I've participated in D&D 3.5 edition and a small amount of LARP. This is not to say that I have been constantly been roleplaying over these 9 years, and I am in no way claiming to be a master of any sort. In your own Words, define what the act of Meta-Gaming is: Meta-Gaming is taking information you have received out of character, and using that knowledge in character. For example, your DM accidentally tells your party OOC there is a trap coming up soon. You then use this knowledge to let your character avoid the trap, even though they would have otherwise been struck by it. In your own Words, define what the act of Power-Emoting is: Power-Emoting or Power-Gaming, is essentially telling another person what their character does, or forces some action onto their character without giving them a chance to respond. For example: "Bob punches you in the face and you spit blood." Versus the correct method to do this, "Bob swings a fist at your face, hoping to draw blood." In your own Words, define what Out of Character (OOC) is: Out of character/OOC is conversation between yourself and other players, rather than between your character and other player characters. Characters (IC) cannot break the fourth wall and hear OOC conversation. In your own Words, define what In Character (IC) is: In character/IC is where roleplaying takes place, it is all actions and conversation that takes place between characters. What do you expect this server will be like?: Hopefully it is full of serious and well done roleplay. I expect it will be much busier than the last server I played on. What other server(s) have you played on and why did you leave them?: For Minecraft servers, I've only been on one other. It was called "Aeonis" and I left due to a major staff meltdown, that I'm not at liberty to be spreading rumors or likewise about. Have you read, understood, and agreed to the rules?: Yes, I agree to all the terms and conditions. Do you promise to abide by said rules, and laws? This includes the Server, Forum, and Teamspeak set Rules: I promise! How did you hear about us?: I was browsing through some server list, and stumbled across this one. Have you previously made an Application? If so could you link us to your last Application?: Nope. In-Character: Character Name: Sylva Lia What Race are you? (You may only be Human, Orc, Elf or Dwarf!) : Elf What Sub-Race are you? (note, you aren’t required to have a sub-race): No 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.): ((OOC: I'm worried that this is a little bit long, but I tried to make it good enough to not be boring at least. I kind of cut it off at the end because I know how daunting walls of text can be. I'm sorry! ;_; )) The young auburn-haired man peered up wearily past the snapped tree trunk that pinned him to the ground, its crushing weight piled on top of him. Unable to feel his broken legs, his feeble attempts to drag himself away brought only fistfuls of grass and roots, torn frantically up from the earth. Flames hungrily licked up the sides of the wood, the heat boring over him only matched by the hot tears he felt streaming down his cheeks. With vision fading quickly, the last thing he could make out was a pair of striking green eyes, and the vague outline of a woman silhouetted against the dancing flames. Then, the blackness took over. His next memory came to him an indeterminate amount of time later. As his eyes cracked open, he felt stiffness embracing his bones tightly. Though he could only slightly move his head in any direction, he knew that the room he awoke in was foreign to him. The walls stood flimsily, made of stretched out animal skins, supported by a skeleton of wood branches. Colorful cloths and flowers hung strung up and strewn about, small gold beads catching glimpses of the light from the bonfire in the center of the floor. From just beyond his vision he heard a light humming, an unfamiliar tune. “Auugh!“ He moaned out, hoping to catch the attention of whoever was making the sound. He tried to sit up; yet raising his arm from his side seemed to steal all the energy he could muster. The humming ceased and the sound of soft footfalls approached the edge of the bed. A small hand gently pushed his arm back down to his side. “Good afternoon, my friend. I’m glad to see that you’re finally awake.” The voice was feminine, amicable in tone. “No need to get up yet. You’re still in pretty bad condition from when I found you. Bad situation you were in, lucky to be alive I’d say.” She hovered by his side, holding a small clay bowl filled with warm water. Straining his vision all the way to the side, he could make out the woman’s frame, surrounded by long golden locks of hair. She seemed to be dressed in colorfully patterned clothes, much like the fabric decorating the walls of the room. Oddly, in the midst of all the confusion and pain he felt, her presence held an ambient comfort. The sound of a washcloth being rung out pervaded his ears, as the girl sat upon the edge of the bed. “I was just about to wash your hair, you see. You’ve been out for quite some time.” He felt the warm dampness of the cloth press against his forehead. “You probably don’t remember much about what happened, do you?” She asked, as she continued to push the cloth back, scrubbing delicately through his lengthy mane of hair. At her question he began to think, straining to recall the events that had transpired. His brow furrowed and he shut his eyes tightly. He revisited his last foggy memory, him walking through a tranquil forest, strayed far from his modest home in Oren. He sought refuge from the chores his father had given him to complete, to find time to train with his wooden sword. As he stood in a small clearing he recalled peering out at the sky and seeing menacing grey clouds prowling ominously in the distance. They closed in quickly, as he began to seek shelter. Little time passed before the storm was upon him, raging and howling winds roared in his ears, thick rain pelted down upon him like waves in the sea. Lightning crashed at his feet as he darted blindly through the towering oaks. Suddenly he heard the crash, a snapping and a splintering as loud as the roar of a Jabbernack, all in one small second. Then the memories stopped coming, and it became clear to him how he ended up in this strange bed. “I found you pressed under the long side of a big oak tree in a storm, human. Thankfully, it only had your legs, but,” She paused, looking down solemnly,” I had no other way to get you out of there than to remove them.” “Mmhn!?” He reeled forward with a jerk, feeling his burned flesh rub against the linens he was wrapped in. The pain seethed over him greatly, but it was the pain of looking down at two short stumps that brought tears once more to his eyes. His face wrenched up, looking down at both of his legs, cut off just above the knee. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but there really was no other way.” Pushing him down, back into the bed she sighed. “I know that it is a lot to deal with, but for the sake of your recovery please try to relax.” She then pulled his sheets over top of him, letting them rest below his shoulders. “There is hope for you. I used to live with my family, in a small village. When I did, my father used to tell me of great magical healers called druids. I think maybe, if I find one somehow, they might be able to help you.” Talk of magic, druids and things he did not consider to be real held no sway in his mind. He knew only that his legs were really gone, and that he was really covered in burn wounds up to his chest. Dismal thoughts clouded his mind, like a miasma of death. It choked away all of his dreams, unleashing a tirade of genocidal thoughts on all of his future ambitions. Now he would never become the great warrior he sought to be so dearly. All seemed lost, and even as his mind seemed to spiral out of control, his own lassitude took over him. Filled with apathy, his weary mind faded into slumber again. The next afternoon he woke again, to the smell of mushroom stew boiling in a kettle. Although the smell was pleasant, he found it impossible to be happy. He heard the girl humming again, and a small metal tapping sound as she stirred the stew. “Nice to see you’re awake again.” She said, without ever turning around to look at him, picking up a bowl from her table. “I was just making some soup for you. You need to eat to get your strength up, lest you stay bedridden forever.” With that, she brought the ladle to the bowl, pouring it inside carefully. Steam rose from the hot liquid, as she plopped a wooden spoon into it and began to make her way to the bed. “This is my mother’s recipe for mushroom stew; she made the best in our whole village.” She sat again, on the edge of the bed and brought a spoonful of broth to the young man’s mouth. “Nnnnh.” He pursed his lips shut, unwilling to eat. He felt no reason to do so, with such a dismal future lain before him. “Mister, you have to understand that this is not the end of your life. Magic is capable of amazing things, I know it is.” As she looked down on him with concern in her eyes, she tried desperately to convince him. “I was just out searching for the druids this morning. If I look hard enough I’m bound to find them.” Smiling down on him, she knew that optimism was better than nothing. Bringing the spoon to his mouth again, she placed it against his lips and pressed. “Nnnh!” He stared up at her, with a defiant look in his eye. “Okay, okay.” She said as she retracted her hand slowly. “How about this, I’ll tell you a story about my life, to help distract you from your own. Maybe after that, you’ll feel better and want to eat something?” Staring down at him, he gave no sign of agreement. She continued despite this, as she had foreseen such a reaction. Placing the spoon back into the bowl, she held it in her lap and closed her eyes as she began to recant her tale. “My name is Sylva. I was born fifty-two years ago, in a small elven village out in the wilds. It was a little haven of a community far away from just about everything. The whole place was in a big clearing in the forest, there were so many plants and animals you’d have to wonder if the village wasn’t abandoned if no one was outside. We chose not to live amongst the wood elves in the capital city Normandor, just because we were a more solitary bunch, not to say we were anti-social.” She paused for a moment, to recall her parent’s faces from years past. “My mother was beautiful; with lime green eyes like mine, and smart, too. She and my father were both scholars. I remember when I was little they used to tell me all kinds of amazing stories from the books they read. That’s when they told me about druids, healers who have a bond with nature itself.” She seemed wistful as she continued, reminiscent on the past. “I wanted dearly to please my parents, so I read and studied what they taught me, as often as I could. I should be grateful, because I know much more now than I ever would have without them, but as I grew up I grew tired of the small village. The day I turned nineteen I had scarcely seen more than a mile away from the place. My parents loved me surely, but were much too sheltering.” A small mischievous smirk played on the corners of her lips, as she moved on. “I had what the elders of the village called wanderlust. Every night I dreamt of exploring the places I read about in my parent’s books.” “When I turned twenty, I had reached the age of maturity my people agreed upon. It took me hardly a moment to gather my things, and head off into the wilds. I used what knowledge I had gathered from reading and stories to survive in the wilderness, and I’ve been exploring ever since. I travel from town to town to see the sights, meet new people, buy and sell oddities. I’ve been called a gypsy by more than a few, but I just like to think of myself as on a long vacation from my home. I know I could go back whenever I please.” As her last sentence trailed off, she opened her eyes anew and looked down to the man lying in her bed. He stared intently back at her, silent but watching closely. Picking up the spoon from the bowl in her lap, she once more brought it to his mouth. Relief came as he parted his cracked lips, drinking the still warm broth. He smiled at her and she fed him until he had had enough. Then he shut his eyes to drift back into slumber. The days passed for him, slowly, and at times they seemed to trail together. Looking up from the same vantage point always, his only pleasure came when he heard Sylva come in from her journeys. Through the beaded doorway of her home, she brought new foods and medicines. Every day she told him tales of places she had travelled to, and the people she met along the way. Her stories were bright and colorful, and he dreamed that he was with her, exploring at her side. Weeks passed and every day when she entered, he hoped she would bring news of the healers called druids. Search as she might, Sylva would never enter the door with the good news he longed to hear so badly. Life was not so kind. The young man’s infection began to spread, despite Sylva’s attempts to contain it. As winter came, he developed a hacking cough and his condition worsened drastically. The forest that surrounded them became much too cold for Sylva to traverse for very long. She watched over him day after day, fruitlessly attempting to concoct a cure from the miscellaneous roots and herbs she had stored away. At night she stood beside him, and ran her fingers through his thinned hair humming the melodies of the songs of her people to him. On the third day of the coldest month of the year, the air was stagnant with frost and the whole forest seemed to stand still. Sylva finished stirring the broth in her kettle, as she stood by the glowing flame to keep grasp on its radiant warmth. She slowly picked up a wooden bowl, pouring the steaming liquid in. Tightly she wrapped her wool shawl around her narrow shoulders, as she stepped over to the bed. It was then that the constant smile on her face faded into a frown. The bowl slipped out of her hand, and poured onto the floor. There, her friend, the young man laid dead. Wrapped heavily in furs and blankets, only his pale face was visible, the tip of his broad nose blue with death. When spring came around, Sylva set out yet again. She felt more determined than ever to find knowledge of healers, lest she ever have another friend in need. What are your Character's ambitions?: Sylva’s goal as stated in the bio, is to find druids, and eventually become one. She also wants to travel as much as possible, and see as much of the world as possible. What is your character’s favorite tool? (sword, pickaxe, shovel, etc): A bow and arrow are her favorite, in terms of weapons. What is one of your Character's most skilled talents? After spending thirty or so years living off of the land, I would have to say knowledge of nature. A screenshot of your skin (must be in proper format, if you do not know how to acquire one, copy and paste this link into your browser: ( http://tinyurl.com/Lotcscreenshot ): Other Information about your Character: I’ll just put a tl;dr of her bio here, I guess. Sylva is a female full elf character, who is fifty two years old. She has lime green eyes and long flowing blonde hair. Her personality is warm and caring. Always friendly, she likes to meet new people and believes that she can learn from every single person she meets. She has a definite love of nature and exploring the land, and can take care of herself with minimal trips into town for supplies. Open-Response-Questions Each and every question must be answered with a minimum of a single full paragraph and entirely in RP. 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? Sylva’s ears perk back as she begins to hear the faint sound of arguing. Curious as she is, she decides sneak closer for a better look at the situation. As she moves silently forward, she places her steps carefully to avoid making too much noise. Drawing closer the frantic screaming becomes clearer, and she peers out from behind a large tree to see the group. “A Halfling and two men.” She whispers to herself, eavesdropping on their conversation. “Sounds like they’re trying to take his money.” Seeing that the Halfling is clearly unable to defend himself she places her hand on her bow, knocking an arrow and drawing it back before stepping out from behind the tree. “Pick on someone your own size, brutes!” 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? Her face lights up as her eyes race around the table. “Oh wow, where did you come across all these?” As she reaches both hands out toward him to shake his, she speaks quickly. “This is great, my name is Sylva. How about you? I love coming across merchant stalls like this, always something interesting to see. Don’t you like stalls like these?” Her flurry of words and excited expression seem like those of a hyper child. 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?: She squints down at the chest quizzically. “Who in the world would just leave this sitting open?” As she closes the chest with a loud snap shut, dust clouds into the air around her. Breathing in the filth, her eyes water up instantly, and a sneezing tirade begins. “ACHOO! ACHOO!” She leans over resting a hand on the counter-top, rubbing her eyes with the other. “ACHOO! Ahg! I should take those gold bars just for that! ACHOO!” In the midst of her sneezes she laughs to herself, before escaping the dust filled hut. 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? Her stomach growls as she places her backpack on the ground beside her feet. Reaching a delicate hand out she gives the most pathetic look she can to the trader, puppy dog eyes staring dolefully out at him. “Oh mister, I’ve been wandering around here for so long, I thought I’d never come across another person. I lost all my supplies in a stream last week and I’m just starving. Please mister, could you spare a bit of bread?” Her begging seems to bit without a scrap of pride for herself. 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?: Approaching the party with a smile, she steps energetically toward the leader and extends a hand. “Captain, I’m honestly not much of a warrior, this bow has really only ever served me for hunting small game.” Rather than lie about her average skill, she makes an offer to help by other means. “But, if the only way out of this place is down that road, I’m willing to help anyone in need however I can. Perhaps you guys need a distraction, or some hot meals?” Anything else you would like to say?: Thank you for your time and consideration! :D