CharredAsh

((Mc name: CharredAsh. Character Name: Toov) Toov stares at the parchment for a long moment, thinking hard. He rummage through his pack for a bit before finally snapping his fingers and writing: "Dear Saint Glugolas, I, Toov, would like a farmers hoe that never breaks."

Imagine Dragons - Warriors. I think it fits many of LOTCs historical figures.

The man watches the cleric with one eye, the other clenched tightly closed in pain. At the words of the Cleric, he struggles to keep himself still, forcing his breathing to become slower and more drawn out as the blood continues to leak from his body.

The main north road from the Cloud Temple seems fairly empty as a lone figure trudged down through the gently falling snow. A cloak is draped across its shoulders, but does not cover it's head, though the flurries and it's distance keep the face obscured. As you would approach, they would see that the figure seems to be stumbling, one of its legs not holding it's weight. At this point, the figure seems to be human in height, though hunched over, with only one arm hanging at its side. The figure is muffled through the snow, but you can hear it's heavy breathing. At this point, you may stop, or turn away and move in the other direction, or you may continue forward. Whatever your choice, after a few more steps the figure falls, Keeling over and landing on its side roughly in the snow. Should you move closer you will begin to see the dark stains on the snow that lead down the way the figure has come, as well as the growing pool around the figure. Upon closer inspection, the figure would be a young man 9 about twenty years, breathing heavily and laying on his side. His matted and tangled black hair falls around his face as sweat drips from his cheak, followed by a blood droplet racing after it. His icy blue eyes open, looking unfocused and weary. The man seems to have been beaten, bruises covering his body, and he beard several cuts, including a fairly bad one across his chest, his arm, hidden from sight before, crossing the wound as though trying to keep his life blood from spilling out. His clothes, besides the gray cloak, are torn and ripped, rags that would keep out little cold. "Help me," he would whisper quietly, barely within earshot, "Please help me..."

Toov studies a copy of the Ultimatum, his eyes narrowing slightly. This was certainly interesting: so Varodyr was claiming to be a Horen now? Toov tossed it aside, looking at his traveling pack in the corner. So. It was time now.

I don't think it's the feedback that anyone is contesting. I think it's the "lol oh noes" and the "I hate Cappy because everyone says so". Even then I think some of the positive things I've seen toward Cappy might be to inform the "People don't seem to like Cappy but I don't know why they do" people. Personally I think it's more polite and respectful as a decent human being to say "I'll support you since I've never seen you screw up myself, and here say is often wrong or trumped up." I think the most important thing is if the Admins trust Cappy, then so do I. Good on ye mate.

Toov continues to work the fields beside the Bastion, a quiet pagan among the good, creator fearing Orenians.

Out-Of-Character Information Please fill out the following questions as accurately as possible, and ensure the essential details are accurate. Minecraft Account Name: CharredAsh How old are you?: 19 nearly 20 Time-Zone: Central Have you read, understood and agreed to the rules?: Of course What previous experience have you had in role-playing?: I've only done written or forum roleplaying so far, but I'm looking forward to more visuals when playing. How did you hear about the the Lord of the Craft?: One of my best friends plays on the server Link any applications that you have previously made for the server: None so far, wish me luck. Have you posted this application on the Minecraft Forum? If not, then please do so (link above): Now I have. Have you read the Human lore, and shall you ensure you make use of it and follow it in your biography?: Of course. Definitions In your own words define the following terms. Do not take any definitions from elsewhere!: Role-playing: Take on the persona of a make-believe character in a world of your own, or in the case of Lord of the Craft, others as well, creation. Meta-gaming: That is when you use knowledge that you as the player have, but your character in the game does not. Power-emoting: This is when you force an action on another character, without giving them a chance to respond. In-Character Information: Complete the following biography on your character: Full Name: Yadru Daemar Current Age: 14 Sub-race (if any): Southron Past / History (include childhood, major-events, etc. 2+ paragraphs long): My father was drunk when he named me. Yadru, a name fit for some sort of monster come over the Wall, or perhaps for one of the Undead come from across the long, long ocean. I have never seen the ocean myself, but I'm sure it's long. They say it took days to cross from the old land, and the land before that even longer, the Land of the Undead it was now, and it must have been very very far indeed. Of course, Father didn't care what the name sounded like, he just thought it was funny, I'm sure. Momma probably protested, at least until his fist found a way to her cheek. Momma always went quiet when he did that, and I suppose that was for the better, because once she did he wouldn't hit her anymore. He never did hit me, not through all those years where he would be Momma. Sometimes I wondered if maybe deep down in his drunken stupor there was something that cared about me. But then again, he hurt me plenty on the inside. He had a talent for figuring out exactly what I was most self-concious about and using it against me. When I was young, it was easy for him. "You little piece of dirt!" he would yell, "You're never good for anythin'! Maybe if you did something around the house, then I will give this back!" He would take whatever I was playing with at the time and wave it over my head while I cried. Then he would laugh and laugh and stumble away - always drunk. Always. I used to wonder how it was that Father married Momma. He never treated her nicely, not once, and in all the stories I'd heard people like that were supposed to love eachother. When I was old enough to understand and keep my mouth shut, Old Willa, the old storyteller in town, told me what he knew of it. Even back then, Father was a drunk, but he was wealthy enough that when he asked for Momma's hand in marriage, Momma's Father, my grandfather, didn't put up much of a fight. Father owned the biggest tavern in town, and some would say that it was the best tavern in Anthos. I don't know if I agree with that, but all I'd ever known was that tavern, and it wasn't until I was older that I even really understood that owning that big building where everyone got together to enjoy themselves put Father in a position of a lot of power. I didn't understand that until I was much older, and until life started becoming very very different. I saw a picture someone had made of Momma once. She was beautiful, but I don't remember her that way. All I ever saw was a quiet little mouse, in gray-brown rags, her hair all frizzy. But whoever had made that picture had certainly seemed to see her different. Momma liked that picture. She kept it with her all the time, in the secret pocket under her apron where she would put some of my toys when Father came around. I only saw it the one time, but it said her name on it plan and clear, "To Diedre," it said, and that was Momma. It wasn't until I was nearly ten that Father came close to hitting me. At the time I couldn't understand why he and Momma were fighting, but I figured it out later, after the incident. Turned out that the picture had been given to Momma by some nobleman or another, a noble who had taken a fancy to my Momma and had decided to pursue her, even though she was married. I don't know if Momma put up much of a fight. She'd been with Father for a little while at least, before the noble came, but when he left, he had taken what he wanted from her, and had left her a little gift in return. It turned out, the noble had gone and left me behind, and Father had finally, after ten years, found out. Momma begged and pleaded for him to leave me alone, to beat her for her mistake but not hurt me, but Father was too angry, or maybe too drunk. He beat Momma too, beat her bloody, worse than he had ever beat her before, before he turned on me. Momma used to tell me that if Father ever looked at me with hate in his eyes, that I was to run and run and not stop until I was very far away. So that's what I did, I ran and ran and ran. Father was angry, but all the drinking made him slow, and I was much faster than him. I ran out of the tavern, and I ran past the town gates, and I was gone. I didn't really know what to do after that. I had no place to live, no money, no real way to make a living. I couldn't even work at the brothel like other girls because I was too young, and even when I was old enough, I was scrawny, and men barely noticed me at all. So I took to pinching pennies out of the pockets of the richer, begging what I could, and taking what I couldn't. After awhile, I heard of the land past the narrow water, the land that made people talk in hushed voices of the Tyrant Across the Sea. I found the docks that led to the Tyrant's land when I was still only thirteen, and by then I had enough money that I could manage passage to the other land. "Oren", they called it. The Land of Horen the Emperor. And that's where my story ends. The scrawny little thirteen-year-old made it to the Capital city, and took residence in the alley of one of the slums, turned fourteen, and then told you this. Now, can I get some spare change for the trouble? Ambitions for the Future: I dunno. I'll just keep going from here I imagine, earn enough money to get some nicer things then maybe get a job at one of the taverns, or as a noble's maid. I'm not bad at the cleaning and such, what with my father always working me around the tavern. Personality: Momma used to say I was brave and smart. Father used to say I was stubborn and stupid. Me, I dunno. Those were the only two opinions ever shared about me. Though I would like to say that I'm a decent person, though I'm not silly enough to fall for any tricks. Skills: I can cook pretty well, mostly the easy things like roast or stew, or mutton, nothing like the pastries Momma used to make. I am a good cleaner though, that's what I did more often than not, and I can get a place scrubbed down in less time than it takes a man to scratch his ear then his nose, then pick at his tunic. I'm good at running, I've done a lot of that... and I can mend things pretty well too. Appearance (this must include an in-game screenshot of your skin): http://imgur.com/woFw8zA Any other details you wish to share about your character: Nothing that I can think of right now. Open-Response-Questions Each question in this section must be answered with a minimum of one paragraph which must describe the event in full. Please be as descriptive as possible and do not break character or lore at any point. ____ 1. Whilst in the mighty human capital you notice a dark-clothed figure stealthily making his way towards the Emperor’s palace - he is clearly up to no good. There are guards within shouting distance - what do you do? Answer: Yaddie swallows slightly, seeing guards so close she nearly forgets about the man in the dark clothes. No way is she calling the guards, what does she have to gain from helping the Emperor anyway, it's not as though any noble would ever give her any help for doing them a favor, let alone notice that she'd done anything at all. Nah, she would leave this one alone. If they found the cloaked man then good for them, they could take the credit and the glory, if they saw him at all. Instead, Yaddie turns and scrambles up the vines to the top of the nearest house, leaping from place to place until she reaches her slum alleyway, where she huddles down to wait for it all to pass. 2. Whilst wandering in the deep oak forest you come across a large clearing, in which sits a small cobbled cottage. Outside it stands an unstable old man armed with a small iron blade, surrounded by two heavily armed bandits - they appear to be threatening him. You are armed with leather armour and an iron longsword, how do you react? Answer: First of all, Yaddie drops the longsword - there's no use for those bits of metal anyway, too big to be good in a real fight - then runs forward to tackle the man nearest her. The man howls and raises his arms to try and pull her off, but she grapples him as tight as she can with her arms and legs, then fastens her teeth into his ear. The man howls again, this time in pain, and his buddy is turning, making his way over to rip her off his friend. The old man jumps in then, bringing his sword around fast into the distracted second bandit. Meanwhile, Yaddie uses her leverage on the flailing bandit, who can't seem to get her off his back, and moves her arms from wrapping around his neck to around his arms, moving her feet to put them firmly on the man's back. He flails again, then Yaddie pushes with her legs, holding onto his arms as tight as she can, but he manages to knock her off in her imbalance. Yaddie lands flat on her back, the breath knocked out of her. She manages to get up on her elbows, looking up at the man as he holds his sword in his hands and brings it up to come down on her. She rolls quickly out of the way as it comes down, smacking hard into the dirt. Yaddie pulls out of her roll and kicks hard at the hand still grasping the sword and trying to pull it out. The man outright screams as the bones crack, and he quickly releases the sword, backing away. Yaddie scrambles to get to her feet before he can charge again but to her surprise he starts off in the other direction, grumbling under his breath. His friend follows quickly after, unwilling to fight Yaddie and the old man together. Yaddie turned to look at her unlikely ally, straightening up and putting a hand on her hip. The man thanks her for her help and Yaddie smiles and gives a little bow, "Now. If you'd be so kind as to compensate me for the trouble." Yaddie holds out her hand with a smile, and the old man scowls, pointing the sword at her and shouting for her to get out of there before he betrayed her help. Yaddie turns and sprints off, having already guessed she wouldn't get anything for her trouble. She berates herself quietly as she runs, swearing to stop helping people. 3. You are standing within the mighty human capital when you notice a small man standing behind a colourful stall. You approach the stall and notice that the man is selling a variety of general goods - he says that he is selling just about anything and that he has no set prices. He is willing to allow you to haggle and choose prices. What do you do? (Explain: your haggling, items of choice and the discussion that happens). Answer: Yaddie approaches the stall, weighing the small bag of coins she just filched from the pocket of a particularly inobservant nobleman, studying the stall for the items she wanted. "That one," she says, pointing to one of the beautiful silver necklaces on display, "How much?" "Four hundred gold," the merchant says, keeping his wide smile, "It is a beauty is it not?" He runs the chain through his fingers lightly, smirking at Yaddie's stare. Yaddie licks her lips to wet them before she speaks, "I'll give you fifty." Already too much, that would be nearly half the purse. The man frowns "For a jewel like this? Certainly not." "That's a lie, there's no jewel, just a chain, you can afford to sell it for fifty," Yaddie argues. "Three hundred then. That's not nearly what it's worth." "I could buy a good bit of rope for that much, not worth a single chain. A hundred. No more than that." "Then go buy some rope," the merchant returned the chain to the stand and smiled an obviously fake smile of pleasantry, "The necklace can stay with me." Yaddie grit her teeth, for a moment, studying the merchant before tossing the purse, "That's about two fifty right there, take it or leave it." The merchant smirked and then moved to open the bag to look inside. As he did, Yaddie leaned forward, as if to look with him and her hand flashed out, snatching the chain from the stand and she moved in the opposite direction like a whip, running as quickly as she can away from the stand. "OI!" she hears the man shout, then the obvious sounds of guards on her tail. She dodges right, out past the courtyard and around behind the great statue to the stairs. She takes the stairs two at a time, knowing that the guards will have a harder time with the stairs. She dashes around, heading for the slums as fast as she can, hearing the pursuit slowly slip away as she ducks around houses and climbs threes to jump on rooftops. Finally she reaches her alley and slips inside flopping onto her stomach and crawling under a pile of trash. She holds her breath, only managing short and quiet gasps as she tries to keep herself from moving the trash around too much. A few moments pass and then they were gone, and she could breathe a sigh of relief. She looks at the chain in her hands with a small smile, and decides she might need to stay away for a little while.