prodofpersia

Out-Of-Character Information Please fill out the following questions as accurately as possible, and ensure the essential details are accurate. Main Account Name: prodofpersia Alternate Account Name: merrell217 How old are you?: I am 14 years old Time-Zone: EST - Eastern Standard Time Have you read, understood and agreed to the rules?: Yes, I have read, understood, and agreed to the rules. What previous experience have you had in role-playing?: I have played on A'therys Ascended, a role-playing server with classes and nations. I have also played on Massivecraft, another role-playing server with factions and races, such as vampires. Definitions In your own words define the following terms. Do not take any definitions from elsewhere!: Role-playing: Role-playing is when one character, or a group of characters, act as a character they have made and interact with each other. Meta-gaming: This is using information that you don't know to your advantage before anyone tells you it. One example is if you knew a characters past before you met them. This is not allowed. Power-emoting: Power-emoting is using actions or words that ruin the story and does not allow any other actions from other characters. One example is saying: "Jimmy and James push prodofpersia off the roof, paralyzing him from the neck down". This ruins role-play and is not allowed. In-Character Information: Complete the following biography on your character: Full Name: Damian Hale Current Age: 19 Race: Human Sub-race (if any): Northener Past / History (include childhood, major-events, etc. 2+ paragraphs long): Childhood: I was born in the mighty capital of Kingston; a booming town with much life. We had a normal sized house, made of mahogany, with a normal sized yard. We were not poor, but we were not rich. I was born to my father; a 6'1", strong and able man, and my mother; a beautiful, 5'7" (as my dad says) woman with long flowing brown hair, though I do not remember my mother much. For the first few days after my birth, I did not talk; I was completely silent. My father still remembers "We were so worried about you, Damian. We thought you wouldn't make it." The doctor said this was weird, because northerners were normally born very light skinned (I was tan) and were noisy little babies. Luckily, I made it; but someone else in my family didn't. Two years after my birth, my mother was diagnosed with an awful infection caused by my birth. One of the only things I can remember from that time was every night, I would hear my father weeping in bed, while my mother remained in the hospital. Now, I think of how horrible that would of been for both my poor parents. We rarely visited my mother, due to the constant care and "protection" she needed, as the doctors said. On that day, there was no love flowing throughout the Hale household. It was raining; a typical sad day, and that morning we received the news about my frail mother. She had passed away, "A peaceful death" as the doctor said; but I know she would have rather been with us for her last moments. Again, I do not remember much about my mother, so I do not have trouble talking about her and talking about her death; it sounds ungrateful, but its the truth. Teen Years During my teenage years, I was still living in the capital Kingston, and I was still living in my mahogany home. Right as I turned 14 years of age, I began to take Swords Skills classes; to my much excitement, but to my fathers much dread. He was a priest, and he taught children my age wanting to become priest's of themselves. He always warned me "Damian, weapons and fighting are used in the wrong way. You may think you're learning good skills, but it will turn back around on you." I told my him "Father, these are good skills to learn, for defense and for defending my town. I will be fine." Soon enough, I became the best in my class. Every day, we would puncture the drooping dummies over, and over; we would slash broken rocks over, and over; we would run laps around the town, making our legs sore for days. I wondered "When would I ever use these? I haven't had to yet, maybe my father is right." I kept my fighting knowledge stored in my head and bones, while I used my prayer knowledge every night before bed. Truthfully, I thought prayers were useless at that time; I thought words didn't mean anything, and it was easier to just act. Nonetheless, I always said my nightly prayers, just to please my worried father. As I had been waiting for a long time, my fighting skills were being used. Much to my fathers distress, I was selected to become a member of the Kingston Soldiers, fighting for what I believe is right. As expected, my father warned me numerous times of not joining; "Prayers are much stronger than fighting, son. Fighting causes death, prayers cause hope." But my dads wisdom lead my mind nowhere; I was born to be a fighter. Modern Days: As I grow older and more wise, I realize my dad had taught me very much. These "useless" prayers I had learned from my dad, I use every day, in many different situations. For death, anger, sorrow, and just to feel better, I pray with one of the many prayers I had learned. I am fit to be a priest; and my dad would be proud if I choose that path; but the surge of fighting runs through my veins more than ever before; and I still wish I had never been taught about peace, because that makes it hard to do anything I desire to do. Ambitions for the Future: I wish to find a nice settlement to call home, and I wish to join that settlements army. I hope I can become respected in that settlement, weather it for fighting, being wise, or praying. I hope to become a high position in that community, such as the High Priest or the Military Leader. I also wish to return to my father for some time, and stay with him for some of his last years alive. Personality: I am very loud; I love talking, and I won't stop until I am forced to. I tell stories, close situations, and many more experiences I have had. I like to be up in the ranks; not a peasant, a Leader; I feel that I am made to be a leader. Even in dark times, my eyes always flare with something; be it rage, sorrow, glee, or anger; my eyes and my body are always burning with something. I like educating people about myself and my skills; I feel as if people can learn from me. Skills: I am very good at blessings, I am a very skilled swordsman, I am built and strong, I have good reaction time Appearance (this must include an in-game screenshot of your skin): I am a young, strong male who is well built. I weigh 190 pounds, and I am 5 feet 11 inches tall. I have medium length brown hair, and I am tan to the skin. My eyes are brown, and I wear a long cloak to conceal my identity, until I feel safe. Link to my skin: http://www.planetmin...sassin-2054319/ Any other details you wish to share about your character: Even though I did not know my mother, I still regret not ever knowing her and loving her. I do not tolerate racism toward any race, even if they have done harm to me, and will take that matter to the sword if I have to.

*Ceruahern strolls up to a post in Malinor and hammers in a tinted piece of paper* "Dark Elf Looking for Work! My name is Ceruahern Ehierhileia, I am an 150 pound, built male who is a great swordsman and worker. I follow directions, and I am 5 feet 10 inches. I am working for cheap, and need a place where I can settle for some time." *The rest of the paper is ripped off, as if to conserve it*

Out-Of-Character Information Please fill out the following questions as accurately as possible, and ensure the essential details are accurate. Minecraft Account Name: prodofpersia How old are you?: I am 14 years old. Time-Zone: EST - Eastern Standard Time Have you read, understood and agreed to the rules?: Yes, I have read, understood, and agreed to the rules. What previous experience have you had in role-playing?: I have played on many large RP servers, such as Massivecraft in which you choose classes, and A'therys Ascended, which includes nations, towns, classes, and is a very big role-playing server. How did you hear about the the Lord of the Craft?: I was looking on Google for great Minecraft role-playing servers, and I came across the LOTC website. I read through everything, and decided this server sounded perfect. Link any applications that you have previously made for the server: http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/90062-dark-elf-prodofpersias-application/ Have you posted this application on the Minecraft Forum? If not, then please do so (link above): Yes, I have posted this application to the Minecraft Fourm. Have you read the Elven lore, and shall you ensure you make use of it and follow it in your biography?: Yes, I have read all the Elven lore, and I will make use of it, use it, and follow it in game and in my biography. Definitions In your own words define the following terms. Do not take any definitions from elsewhere! Role-playing: Role-playing is when one character, or a group of characters, act as a character they have made and interact with eachother. Meta-gaming: This is using information that you don't know to your advantage before anyone tells you it. One example is if you knew a characters past before you met them. This is not allowed. Power-emoting: Power-emoting is using actions or words that ruin the story and does not allow any other actions from other characters. One example is saying: "Jimmy and James push prodofpersia off the roof, paralyzing him from the neck down". This ruins role-play and is not allowed. In-Character Information: Complete the following biography on your character: Full Name: Ceruahern Ehierhileia (Pronounced Ser-oo-aa-hern Ehh-hair-he-leah Current Age: 140 Sub-race (if any): Dark Elf Past / History (include childhood, major-events, etc. 2+ paragraphs long): Childhood: I was born in the large town of Kingston, in Anthos. The first word I said was "res", which means "unpredictable" and fits in with myself completely. We lived like a normal elven family, not fighting with the others in the vicinity. Many people gave us dirty looks when we were out, and one old man even yelled "Look at them dirtyyyy beasties!" Our #1 household rule; don't talk to strangers. I always thought we were the upper class; that's what my parents told me. We lived in a small wooden hut, and we almost never received special treats or toys. I wanted a "Dark-Attack Practice Dagger" said to be used by the Krughai themselves to train, but my parents said that toy was "Not age appropriate" and it was "Not in our heritage". I took that to mean "No", being the simple and absent-minded child I was (and still am). But back then, I was too young to know the truth of our wealth. We were not wealthy; we were not middle class; we were not even lower class. If I had looked in a mirror, I would've saw a pile of dirt staring back. If I had known about this, I would've pushed my parents into a pile of trouble, so it was for the better that I had no clue. My parents and I were Slaves. Working day and night to serve the appalling humans, which explained why they would always leave me in the morning, and come back sore in the evening. You could call it a form of Dehumanization toward my parents, but to me, it was something much different. It was trickery. As a child, I never enjoyed serving people and doing work, so the deceitful humans tricked me; and all the other slave-children; to work. We were told to "Light the campfire" and "Collect logs" for the "exciting yearly festival", that never happened. Every time my parents would leave for another day, and I headed out to chop wood, tears filled my mothers large blue eyes, and she would whisper "Be safe, my baby." I would always peek out the window, and watch them walk far away, my curious self wondering where they were going. My father was 6'2" and my mother was 5'9", they were in perfect health, which probably made the humans target them. I always prayed I would one day surpass my dad in height, because I always wanted to be a strong, military leader. My mother was always worrying about my safety, such as warning me "When you get older, Ceruahern, people may discriminate against you." "Be the better elf", they always said to me, which confused me; Why would people be mean to me? We are the same as them, after all.... When I was about 30 years of age, my dad started to teach me "Self Defense" lessons, due to my mothers anxiety for me. I was always into Combat and Fighting, and I was jumping off the walls with joy when he announced the Self Defense Class. These lessons were cheerful, with laughing and bonding time between my father and I. I continued with these lessons for 10 years, and learned skills such as locating the directions by a tree trunk, and how to scale trees using only your hands and feet. These lessons, despite me not knowing it, would become some of the most valuable things I had learned. I was a food-loving little elf. Food was a comforting thing to me; whenever I felt down or sad, I would scan the closets vividly with my small brown eyes looking for a treat. This trait came naturally; I was always spotting out goodies and coins without even knowing it. The saddest time in the house, for me, was when the cabinets were empty. "Mama, I'm starving!!" I would yell. If there was no food in the house, there was no happy Ceruahern either. It was dark, but cool. There was a nice breeze flowing across the brown grass of our lawn. I had just finished my Self Defense lesson, and was in a great mood. So was my father, we both had a knack for fighting, and we both loved the feel of it. Of course, I became hungry, and asked my father politely to retrieve me a treat. "Father, It is a lovely day today, and I am quite hungry, so I was wondering if you could quickly retrieve a pepper-stuffed apple from the forests. If you do not want to, that is perfectly fine." Being the generous man he was, he replied "Ok, just this once though, Ceruahern." My father never returned from that forest. Teen Years: There was so much sorrow in the house of the Ehierhileia's. Everyone knew about our loss, and everyone tried to avoid the "Out of place" Ehierhileia's. I wondered why no one was speaking to me, because I was always the "Life of the group" with my friends. Soon, people started going missing. The town grew smaller and smaller. Every morning I would walk around the town and find boarded up houses, sometimes half broken. My mother became worried something was going on. She said to me "People do not just go Missing without explanation." She decided, after much thought, that we would have to escape from the town. Again, my curiosity kicked in, and I wondered why she said "escape" instead of "leave" or "say goodbye". I became very attached to that small old rotting house; mostly because I did not want to leave my fathers soul. That morning was a blur. All I can remember is being hoisted onto my mothers shoulders with a bag on my back, and the up and down motion of feet running on uneven ground. I remember some snapping noises (which I now recognize as whips) and some growling; which I thought was in my nightmare, but, unfortunately, it turned out to be real. I woke up, to find myself in a snowy and icy tree surrounded by rotting zombies and chilling skeletons. Older Teen Years: We had been living in those wastelands for nearly 90 years. The self defense lessons came in great handy, thanks to my father, and I was strong enough to run at a rapid pace along with my nimble mother. We grew quite skinny, our old pants from Kingston slipped right over our whole bodies. I lost very much in those wastelands; the emotions, sorrow, and morals seemed like they floated right out of my heart, and froze in the cold wind. My eyes grew narrow, and more keen to any movements, due to the scary fact a Monster could pounce on me or my mother and take us in an instant. The tree was cut up and scarred, due to the constant punches and stab wounds it received from me. I had been strengthening myself for 90 years, and I was prepared for what was coming on that sunny morning. I was prepared this morning; no dreaming and no nightmares. Throughout our whole time here, my mother and I had exchanged little words, most of them spoken on this occasion. We had established the direction we needed to go; west; thanks to my fathers knowledge of direction. "Ceruahern, get the bags, its time to go." "Yes, mother" No conversation involved, only needed orders. This was what it was like in those wastelands, and I still stick to those rules today. No unnecessary talking. "Done, mother" "Get in your position, when the path is cleared, we will run" Done. No more words exchanged between my mother and I, for the rest of her life. Step after step, we ran and slid through those wastelands. My nimbleness and quickness, learned from my father, were the traits that made me survive. When we reached the tall, swaying grass, I was overjoyed. When I turned around to smile at my mother (first smile in 90 years) I saw her arm. Green skin around a large missing chunk of skin. Teeth were stuck in the skin, and her arm was spewing bright red blood. My head started to spin, my forehead grew to the size of a watermelon, and sweat poured down my sides. During the days with my father, I learned self defense and fighting, but did not go over one aspect of healing. Believe me, I tried everything. I tried picking the teeth out of her arm, I tried burning the bite closed, I even tried sucking the infection out of her arm, but to no avail. The day after she was bitten, she dropped dead on the floor. I could of killed myself right then and there. And something, deep inside was bothering me. For a split second, the thought popped into my mind; "She's food now, Ceruahern. Eat Her." Modern Days: The days passed by. Walking, staring down at the tall grass, trying to clear my mind of everything in my life, even the good things. I was becoming un aware of my surroundings, all I did was walk. There was nothing that could have saved me from those horrors, and nothing that could have made me happy. Even when I bumped into the cold metal gate, and read the sign; LEUMALIN; my eyes stared straight through the joy of arriving, and kept going back to that one phrase; "She's food now, Ceruahern. Eat Her" Ambitions for the Future: I wish to establish a home, until I can make a journey back to the forests my father ventured into, and hopefully make a home with him. I wish to gain back some of my morals lost in those wastelands, and I wish to eliminate the humans from the very ground. Personality: I am sneaky, I always look for the bright side of bad situations, I have a very strong willpower, and I will do anything to save myself / make myself wealthy. I do not like talking, and hate conversations. I do not talk about death in any form, though I have no problem preforming death. Skills: Skilled Swordsman, Nimble, Fast Runner, Very Quiet Appearance (this must include an in-game screenshot of your skin): I am a dark-skinned elf, with blue eyes. I have medium length black hair, and enjoy wearing gloves all the time. I wear no shirt, but ragged pants and small shoes. The link to my skin: http://www.planetmin...rk-elf-2091885/ Any other details you wish to share about your character: I regret asking for the pepper-apple, and I will hate myself forever for not saving my mom. I keep things to myself, and I do not let go of anything that hurts me. 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. As you walk through the deep forests you hear the sound of whispering and snickering. Upon inspection you realize that a group of older elves are mocking a small elven child. How do you react? Answer: "These are elder's, Ceruahern, leave it be" I think to myself. The sorrow, the pain he must be going through. I had a horrible child hood; I don't want any other children having the same. Using my learned smarts, I dash up a tree with my survival skills, and yell "I have three men with bows in these trees. Leave the child alone, or we will fire" The elders instinctively react, and pull their bows also. My mind works like a prey. I look for the solution, and quickly react. They will not shoot at me; if they kill me, they will be banished. I scan around the tree and find three medium sized ridged rocks. I pick up one rock, and yell one last warning; "I will fire, let the boy leave, and all will be well." Giving them no time to react, I fire the first rock at who looks like the ringleader, and It hits him square on the forehead. My long thin hand whips around with incredible speed and loads the second rock. No need for another rock, the two other elves run for safety. What cowards, I was looking forward to shooting them both. "Leave this scene now, boy" I shout, spit flying out of my mouth. "Who are you?" the small elven child asks. "None of your business, don't make me knock you out also" He runs away, half crying from the last remark. I do what I need to do. No need for unnecessary conversation, and definitely no need for identification. I feel as if I should check the knocked out elf for coins, but then I remember his friends may be near. I feel that familiar buzz when I do something right; It feels good. I don't know why, because there was nothing to gain from that encounter. I stroll away, onto the pathway with my head held high. I am the better elf. 2. Whilst wandering through the Elven forests you come across a frail old man with a walking stick. He collapses in front of you, falling to the ground with a sharp thud. Out of his pocket falls a small pouch of gold coins, which hits the ground and splits open spreading coins across the pathway. The man lies there, defenseless - what do you do? Answer: As soon as the shiny gold splatters across the pathway, my greediness kicks in. I cannot reveal myself stealing; I must convince him I have good intentions, and then run away with the money. My morals and conscience starts to kick in; "No, I have lived my life in poverty, I deserve these coins more than that man does. He is almost dead, isn't he?" and "Look at this poor soul. He is trying to live a life, just like myself. It is not his fault I was poor, and he needs the money to help himself live." Discarding the good morals, I stroll over to the man and ask; "Sir, do you need help getting up?" "Oh yes please, boy, thank you for the help" I softly pick him up and wrap his arm around my shoulder. I be as smooth as I can while placing him down in a sitting position along the large, dark tree. "Here, let me pick up your coins also" I say with a nice tone, knowing my intentions. "God praise you. You are a wonderful person" One by one, the coins clink in the bag. That amazing sound of money on money; the sound I have learned to love. Almost as ear soothing as the sound of sword to sword. My quick thinking skills kick in, right as the last coin clinks in the bag. Running, step by step over to his cane. Snapping the cane in two, and throwing it in the dense forest, while hearing the soft "Ahhhhhhhhh!" of the old man. Sprinting away, not with my head held high. My head is held low, and I have that stomach gurgling guiltiness flowing through my body. Some one will find him there. Do not worry, Ceruahern, this was to keep yourself alive. I need this money more than that man. 3. Whilst traversing the Elven Woodlands, you come across a small clearing in which a colored carriage sits. A trader stands outside of it and calls you over, telling you of his wares. He points out that his carriage sells just about everything, and that he's willing for you to haggle for a price. What does your character do? (Please include:- item, haggling for prices and the discussion involved). Answer: The trader ushers me over to his magnificent carriage. He must be a very successful trader, to afford this piece. But I know i'm not spending a penny at this trader. "C'mere, you defenseless boy! I have a bargain' for ya'! Im sellin' ma finest swords, for yer protection! Right away, I notice his poor grammar. Be polite, Ceruahern. "Hello, sir. How are you today?" I politely say. "Errr... I'm myself doin' just fine... Now c'mere, lemme show ya' what I got!" Ok, time to think up a plan. Shall I say "No thank you" and walk away, or get items for free. I walk over to the carriage, and I see something that shines in my eye. Small cutlasses, my favorite type of sword, made by the great blacksmith Ehala Marluharern, a dark elf blacksmith in which every elven child admires. These swords are mine. "These here swords are werth 300 minas; but for ya', ill give em' for 100" "What a deal, sir! That is a great price! If you could wait for just one second, i'll see what I have" "Okee, be quick though" I reach into my pocket, and out of luck, I decided to bring my dagger along. I pretend to foil around in my pocket for some money, and pretend to act sad. I have always been good at lying. "I'm sorry, sir, but it seems like I do not have enough money" I say, with my sad-mask on. "Alrighty, then, I gotta' run, hope to see ya' again" His mighty carriage starts speeding up, and I hear the familiar whip sound on the horses. The rocks start flying out from under the wheels, and I begin to create a plan. It only takes a couple of seconds for my working mind to make something up. I glance to my left, right, behind me. No one in sight. I begin sneaking behind the carriage, stepping in and out of the large road-holes gracefully. Closer and closer, the colorful carriage becomes, until I am right behind it. Trying to doge as many flying rocks as I can, I stab the back two tires deeply; I love that feeling of a piercing stab. "Oye! What coulda' happened!" the trader yells, distraught. Under the carriage, my slim body slips, and I get ready to attack. Blade out, forehead sweaty, hand shaking. The trader bends over; "O lordie, ma' carrIIIAAAA..............." Silence is a virtue. "These swords are my defense, I did the right thing" my head is telling me, as my body is churning with guilt.

Out-Of-Character Information Please fill out the following questions as accurately as possible, and ensure the essential details are accurate. Minecraft Account Name: prodofpersia How old are you?: I am 14 years old. Time-Zone: EST - Eastern Standard Time Have you read, understood and agreed to the rules?: Yes, I have read, understood, and agreed to the rules. What previous experience have you had in role-playing?: I have played on many large RP servers, such as Massivecraft in which you choose classes, and A'therys Ascended, which includes nations, towns, classes, and is a very big role-playing server. How did you hear about the the Lord of the Craft?: I was looking on Google for great Minecraft role-playing servers, and I came across the LOTC website. I read through everything, and decided this server sounded perfect. Link any applications that you have previously made for the server: I have made no other applications. Have you posted this application on the Minecraft Forum? If not, then please do so (link above): Yes, I have posted this application to the Minecraft Fourm. Have you read the Elven lore, and shall you ensure you make use of it and follow it in your biography?: Yes, I have read all the Elven lore, and I will make use of it, use it, and follow it in game and in my biography. Definitions In your own words define the following terms. Do not take any definitions from elsewhere! Role-playing: Role-playing is when one character, or a group of characters, act as a character they have made and interact with eachother. Meta-gaming: This is using information that you don't know to your advantage before anyone tells you it. One example is if you knew a characters past before you met them. This is not allowed. Power-emoting: Power-emoting is using actions or words that ruin the story and does not allow any other actions from other characters. One example is saying: "Jimmy and James push prodofpersia off the roof, paralyzing him from the neck down". This ruins role-play and is not allowed. In-Character Information: Complete the following biography on your character: Full Name: Ceruahern Ehierhileia (Pronounced Ser-oo-aa-hern Ehh-hair-he-leah Current Age: 140 Sub-race (if any): Dark Elf Past / History (include childhood, major-events, etc. 2+ paragraphs long): Childhood: I was born in the now-abandoned town of Dunroch, in Anthos. We lived peacefully with the residents of Dunroch, and no fights or raids broke out in the town. I was a jittery little boy, who loved food. Both my father and my mother were dark elves. She sometimes warned me "When you get older, Ceruahern, people may discriminate against you. Be the better elf, they always said. When I was about 30 years of age, my dad started to teach me "Self Defense" lessons, due to my mothers anxiety for me. These lessons were cheerful, with laughing and bonding time between me and my father, but one night after lessons, everything changed. As I mentioned, I was a food-loving little elf, so I asked my father if he could make a quick trek into the woods to make me my favorite dish, pepper-apples. These were the most delicious treats; hollow apples with pepper and carrots inside. He, being the erogenous man he was, trekked into the forest to fetch me my treat. My father never returned from that forest. Teen Years: There was so much sorrow in the village of Dunroch. Everyone knew about our loss, and everyone tried to avoid the "Out of place" Ehierhileia's. Soon, people started leaving the town. The town grew smaller and smaller, until we finally left too. We trekked north, not having a clue where we were going, and ended up in the lands of North Anthos. We became trapped in a small tree, and lived off of greasy zombie flesh and bone marrow. As a young boy, I was weak and small, and we could not escape from those lands. Older Teen Years: I was a strong teen; living in those wastelands for nearly 100 years. I was strong enough to run at a rapid pace along with my nimble mother. It was a clear day, as we planned to escape from our captivity. We would need to trek west, to find the place we were looking for in the beginning of this journey. We hastily threw our sewn bags (made of spider skin) over our backs and dashed to the west, making sure we checked the direction markings we made on our arrival. We spent days and nights traveling, and some without food, water, and shelter. In those traveling days, I lost my finger, but I lost something else, much, much more important. Modern Days: I lost my mother. The only one I still loved in the world, the only one who still gave me hope. Believe me, I tried saving her, by trying to suck the zombie infection out of her arm, and even trying to stop the blood flow. But, nothing worked. My beloved mother was dead, and I would have to continue the trek by myself. Many more nights of weakness and sorrow passed, before I came to a beautiful city of trees and elves. I glanced over at the entrance, and above it were big letters that read: LEUMALIN Ambitions for the Future: I wish to establish a home, until I can make a journey back to the forests my father ventured into, and hopefully make a home with him. Personality: I am sneaky, I always look for the bright side of bad situations, I have a very strong willpower, and I will do anything to save myself / make myself wealthy. I do not like talking, and hate conversations. Skills: Skilled Swordsman, Nimble, Fast Runner, Very Quiet Appearance (this must include an in-game screenshot of your skin): I am a dark-skinned elf, with blue eyes. I have medium length black hair, and enjoy wearing gloves all the time. I wear no shirt, but ragged pants and small shoes. The link to my skin: http://www.planetmin...rk-elf-2091885/ Any other details you wish to share about your character: I regret asking for the pepper-apple, and I will hate myself forever for not saving my mom. I keep things to myself, and I do not let go of anything that hurts me. 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. As you walk through the deep forests you hear the sound of whispering and snickering. Upon inspection you realize that a group of older elves are mocking a small elven child. How do you react? Answer: I think to myself "These are elders. They are more powerful, more knowledgeable, and more respected than me." I remember my devastating childhood, remember the pain involved, and decide to help the poor elven child. I do not speak one word, as I like keeping to myself, but instead I scale a small tree. By instinct, I take out my bow and arrow and prepare to shoot. "Killing will make it worse" pops into my head, so instead of arrows, I take out medium sized rocks. One by one, the rocks hit the elders square on the head, and they all fall in a pattern. With no eye contact involved, I quietly yell "run, boy" I dash away as the small elven child does the same, not even exchanging words. 2. Whilst wandering through the Elven forests you come across a frail old man with a walking stick. He collapses in front of you, falling to the ground with a sharp thud. Out of his pocket falls a small pouch of gold coins, which hits the ground and splits open spreading coins across the pathway. The man lies there, defenseless - what do you do? Answer: As soon as I see the shiny gold on the pathway, I quickly scoop the coins up and throw them in the bag, without glancing at the man. He says "Thank you" in a kind manner, as if he thought I was picking them up for him. My morals start kicking in. "No, I have lived my life in poverty, I deserve these coins more than that man does. He is almost dead, isn't he?" and "Look at this poor soul. He is trying to live a life, just like myself. It is not his fault I was poor, and he needs the money to help himself live." I try to block my good morals out of this situation, place the old man in a sitting position on a tree, snap his walking stick in two, and dash out of the situation with my heart pounding, partly from anxiety and partly from guilt. 3. Whilst traversing the Elven Woodlands, you come across a small clearing in which a colored carriage sits. A trader stands outside of it and calls you over, telling you of his wares. He points out that his carriage sells just about everything, and that he's willing for you to haggle for a price. What does your character do? (Please include:- item, haggling for prices and the discussion involved). Answer: The trader starts talking about his wares to me. He says: "C'mere, you defenseless boy! I have a bargain' for ya'! Im sellin' ma finest swords, for yer protection! There lies many, many fine handcrafted swords by Eelhest Marher, the best elven blacksmith known. Again, stealing and killing come into my mind, without my consent. "These here swords are werth 300 minas; but for ya', ill give em' for 100" Of course, living a shady life, I have much more than 100 minas. But, the thought came into my mind "Can I get these for free? It would be a horrible thing to do, but he hasn't even heard my voice yet." "No thanks" I whisper, very very quietly. After the carriage has passed, I begin my assault. Running behind the carriage, I take out my hand crafted dagger and stab the wheels. The carriage slows down, and eventually comes to a halt. The trader gets out, but he doesn't have enough time to look at the wheels. As he bends down, I push the dagger into his brittle head, and he falls to the ground dead. Hand crafted swords for free, what a great day!