Xeniith (2)

I strolled up the board looking for any new announcements, when something caught my eye, "An event planner?" I thought to myself, "Oh, that sounds like so much fun!" I squealed, unable to contain my excitement. I giddily grabbed a copy of the application page and merrily skipped home with a grin on my face. ~ Lythiana

(( I'm pretty sure you guys are supposed to be messaging the OP with your applications. Speaking of which, is this still open? ))

Because it's not the generic good vs. evil, or because the GMs didn't come up with it? It's original, and there's no problem with it not fitting in, because if you ask me, the majority of the stuff that was introduced in Asulon doesn't fit in with the RP. If I had a penny for every time someone said "It doesn't fit in with the server lore," just because something is original, I'd have at-least 10 pennies.

GMs are intolerant to any non-generic RP characters without going through their incredibly delicate, useful, and efficient screening process of every single detail, so here's the lore to my character. I was born into a noble family in a city known as Homem-Christo, and was always taught that anyone outside of the human race, or any human that could not conform to our leader's will shall be outcast. Such blatant discrimination against new concepts led to conflict, as you might imagine. By the time I reached adolescence, it has become publicized that there was a group that publicly opposed Homem-Christo because of its ignorant totalitarian style of government, and not soon after, the struggle would become violent. I woke up one morning to a crash and crackling, I clumsily shuffled out of my bed and rushed outside; Homes enkindled by flame as far I could see. I rushed towards the nearest guard-tower, only to be cut short by an arrow shot into my chest rushing from the thick blaze. I fell to the ground, blinded by both the pain and the fire soon to engulf me. I found consciousness again on a recently abandoned warehouse floor, half-covered by a thin woolen sheet. I sat myself up against a nearby wall. After getting past the excruciating pain, I noticed my father sitting beside me, wearing the odd helmet that he always had for whatever odd reason. "They said that they wouldn't harm us if we supported them," he placed his hand over his helmet, "Never have I been so wrong to support those that would dare to harm my son," he said quietly to himself. He then continued by explaining the atrocities of both the resistance and Homem-Christo. It was too much for me to understand, suddenly being torn from my home and my beliefs. Too far in thought, I never noticed that my father had already gave me his helmet and left. After debating between myself what I should make of this foreign information, I decided the best course of action would be to leave before the violence claimed me. I crept through the city, avoiding anyone that could see me, and headed to the docks. I walked onto the deck of the boat for for the last time. I tugged the sails down, and pulled the anchor up. Some miles from the city, the amount of emotion that came along with the commitment of leaving had overwhelmed me, so I dropped to the floor and lost consciousness. When I woke up, I had arrived in Elysium.