T_Rizzle_1297

Minecraft Account Name:
T_Rizzle_1297

How old are you?: 15

Time-Zone: Eastern

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

What previous experience
have you had in role-playing?: When I played KoTor, TES, and other RPG games on
the consoles, I really got into it. Other than that, not much.

How did you hear about
the Lord of the Craft?: Looking for a legitimate RPG server. Looks like I found
it!

Link any applications…: http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/92404-deniedhuman-t-rizzle-1297/

Have you read the Human
lore…: Yes, for both parts.

Role-playing: Fully
getting into a character for entertainment and personal accomplishment.

Meta-gaming: Using
knowledge from out-of-character to one’s advantage.

Power-emoting: Using
emoting to do something unpreventable or something that can’t be countered,
that would cause detriment to another player (Ex: Tal’Dar Catmane chops of Lady
Natalie’s head and starts eating her eyeballs.)

Full Name: Tal’Dar
Catmane

Current Age: 25

Sub-race: None

Past/History: Tal’Dar Catmane awoke not long ago in a strange bed, his head aching and limbs sore to the marrow. He rose, and called out, but the house was abandoned. The room was
empty, save an emerald hooded cloak, boots, gloves, and an old quiver. He knew
nothing, save his name and age. The house had been robbed.The furniture was smashed and various articles strewn across the rooms, while the pantry consisted of dust alone. Someone had busted the windows. Blood and chunks of bone plagued one corner of the living quarters, though no corpse was to be seen. A strange acidic muck had eaten away at one corner of the house, and he wondered how he was still alive. Tal’Dar was ready to leave when a sudden tickle of instinct caused him to look under the bed. A leather-bound journal rested beneath, and the markings inside were strange and unreadable. Unbeknownst to him, it was written in Elvish. He would need to find a translator.

                But where could he go? In truth, he knew not where he
was at the moment. How could he find someone with the ability to read this
journal? He wasn’t sure, but standing around gave him nothing. The lonely
cottage stayed behind, and his thoughts roamed to wonder who brought him in. He
felt just as responsible for their injuries as well as his own amnesia. Had he
brought this upon them? Had they died in order to save him, or had he killed them himself? He tried to shrug the thoughts. They would only make his journey more difficult. After days of
wandering the wild all alone, he stumbled upon a large city. Someone could
certainly help here.

                Upon lifting out of his coma, Tal’Dar couldn’t
remember any of his childhood. Part of him believes (and eventually expects)
that he was from one of the noble families of Anthos, legitimate child or
bastard. He is not of the nobility, but rather a long-dead and insignificant
farmer family. Another fragment of his mind hopes that he was once some grand
warrior. But he was a sellsword, and occasional messenger for anyone that paid
good Minas, or even food. As he explores this “new” land, he will stumble upon
familiar faces and seem to remember things out of thin air. But how many
memories are true? And how many faces are those that wish to see a dagger in
his back? He may find out in hard ways.

                Tal’Dar waits on the streets of Abresi, starving and
desperate, poor and alone— and with only one clue to his past— a journal from
the house he awoke in. It may help him discover the identities of those who
died to protect him. But will he be able to discover his own past as well? And
if so, will he be able to handle its unremarkable nature?

Ambitions for the Future:
Live long enough to discover his past.

Personality: Quiet,
reflective, and slow to judge. He tries to be purely logical, but his emotions
often win.

Skills: Not remarkably
fast or strong, but well-rounded. A talented wordsmith, and a deep strategist
with a quick eye.

Appearance: (Picture
attached.)

Other Details: Fond of people, enjoys a good conversation, but has trouble letting himself attach to others. Willing to help anyone that will do the same for him. Enjoys the benefits of stealth.

<>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?

1. I follow the dark-clothed figure from a medium distance, careful that he doesn’t
   see me in the crowd. I think for a moment. The Emperor has done nothing for me, nor against me. If I save his life, I could be rewarded greatly… but if this man is part of some organization, I could also have a new enemy. I scrawl a note as I walk, then hand it to a guard as I pass. It says:

Man heading towards palace. Dark
cloak. Protect the Emperor.

I glance backward, and the guards are gone. For a moment, I consider leaving the
situation to them, but I can’t. I keep close by the figure, but he’s nearly to
the palace grounds. There are no guards to be seen… My casual saunter
transforms into a rush, and I kick the rear of the cloak, where I suppose the
man’s knees must be. He drops, and before he can spin around I slip one arm
under his shoulder and the other around his neck. Several citizens howl out and
a flood of guards comes leaping from behind the entrance to the palace grounds.
They rip the figure into custody, and another group takes me in the other
direction before I can see its face. I feel I’ve made a new enemy, or many.

<>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?

2. I watch for a short moment to make sure there is no misunderstanding on my part,
but with angry shouts I realize this isn’t necessary. I dart from tree to tree
on my approach. The old man doesn’t have much longer, but I don’t want to risk
an all-out assault. Nor can I watch him die. I ease my longsword from its
scabbard, then move it to my right hand and dart to the bandit on the left. I
swing with my left hand, and lift my weapon as the man slams into the ground. Luckily.
my enemy’s blade slips off my own with a cold shing. I kick my leg out at the expense of my own balance, and both of us stumble backward. The old man, in shock, I suppose, does nothing. I stomp
on the unconscious bandit’s back (for good measure) and lift his axe.

Two weapons are way too heavy. I chuck the axe, and though it
lands at my enemy’s feet, it distracts him enough. The gap closes and I crack him
in his weapon-hand with the flat of my blade. His sword drops, as I lift mine
to point at his throat. Silence. The exhausted rasps of our breath. I swallow
my spit and open my mouth to offer the man a fair surrender, but his eyes widen
and a flash of rusted metal slits his throat from ear-to-ear. He falls, killed
by the old man. I hesitate, but take a step in retreat and lower my sword,
taken aback. The old man beams a rotten-toothed grin.

“Well, thank you young man, but I can take it from here,” he
chortles.

I glance at the other bandit, still breathing slowly. The old
man limps over, drops his blade, and raises the axe. I sigh and turn to leave,
wondering if I should ask for a reward. A wet thud from behind later, and I’m
still heading out to the forest.

<>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?

3. I check my knapsack to find which supplies are low, but everything seems stocked
and full. What else do I need? Nothing,
really, although some of these items look like they may make life a bit easier.
I spot a sheaf of blank parchment and a small jar of ink. Those are always
useful.

“How much for these?”

                “Only five Minas,” he assures.

                “The parchment is durable?”

                “You can feel it yourself.”

                I do, and it’s thick enough to hold its own, yet
smooth enough for words to flow easily from the quill. I set it down and eye
the ink.

                “And the ink won’t run?”

                “It’s the best in Abresi, I assure you. Write
letters, huh?”

                “Among other things, yes.”

                He grins. “For a moment there, I thought you were
just the odd sellsword. But you seem pretty intelligent. One of the Emperor’s
men?”

                I nearly cringe. I am the occasional sellsword. “No, I’m just a nomad I suppose. But
if he needed something, of course I’d do it.” If I got a warm bed for the night. Or a good meal, even. “For now, I’m just trying to survive.”
 

                “I see, I see. Like many folks nowadays. Most
everyone can return home, though. Where you from?”
 

                I set the ink down, and let my hands wander. They
stop over a whetstone that could fit in one’s pocket, and a new, leather
knapsack. “Not sure.”
 

                “Oh, I’m— I’m sorry. Please, let me make it up to
you.”
 

                “No, that’s—“

                “This knapsack, the whetstone, the parchment and ink,
all for twenty Minas. It’s worth well over forty, I assure you.”
 

                “Really, it’s—“
 

                “Fine,” he finishes for me. “I like you lad. And I
know you don’t have much money, nor luxury, nor a place to stay most likely.
Please, let’s settle on twenty.”

                My stomach churns. The deal is splendid, but I know
this man lives off his profits… but then again, these would increase my chances
of survival a good bit. And if he can afford to have these luxuries at all then
he has plenty of coin to go around. I nod, knowing I won’t find a merchant like
this for a long while. “Okay," I agree. I dig the Minas from my coin bag and
hand them over, but leave feeling richer than before. “Thank you, and good day,
my friend.”

                “Best of travels! And if you need anything, please
come back!”

                I lift my hand to acknowledge his farewell, wondering
how long it would be before I returned to civilization at all.

Minecraft Account Name:T_Rizzle_1297

How old are you?: 15
 

Time-Zone: Eastern
 

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

What previous experience
have you had in role-playing?: When I played KoTor, TES, and other RPG games on
the consoles, I really got into it. Other than that, not much.
 

How did you hear about
the Lord of the Craft?: Looking for a legitimate RPG server. Looks like I found
it!
 

Link any applications…:
N/A
 

Have you read the Human
lore…: Yes, for both parts.

Role-playing: Fully
getting into a character for entertainment and personal accomplishment.

Meta-gaming: Using
knowledge from out-of-character to one’s advantage.
 

Power-emoting: Using emoting to do something unpreventable or something that can't be countered, that would cause detriment to another player (Ex: Tal'Dar Catmane chops off Lady Natalie's head and starts eating her eyeballs.)

Full Name: Tal’Dar Catmane

Current Age: 20

Sub-race: Human
(Northerner)

Past/History: Tal’Dar Catmane awoke not long ago in a strange bed, his head aching and limbs sore to
the marrow. He rose, and called, but the house was abandoned. There were no
belongings, save an emerald hooded cloak, boots, gloves, and an old quiver. He
knew nothing, save his name and age, and with after another night of rest he
set out to start a new life. As he explores this “new” land, he will stumble
upon familiar faces and seem to remember things out of thin air. But how many
of these memories are true? He may find out in hard ways.

                Upon lifting out of his coma, he couldn’t remember
any of his childhood. Part of him believes (and eventually expects) that he was
from one of the noble families of Anthos, legitimate child or bastard. He is
not of the nobility, but rather a long-dead farmer family. Another fragment of
his mind hopes that he was once some grand warrior. But he was a sellsword, and
occasional messenger for anyone that paid good Minas, or even food. Will he be
able to discover his past? And if he does, will he be able to handle its
unremarkable nature?

Ambitions for the Future:
Live long enough to discover his past.

Personality: Quiet, reflective, and slow to judge. He tries to be purely logical, but his emotions
often win.

Skills: Not remarkably
fast or strong, but well-rounded. A talented wordsmith, and a deep strategist
with a quick eye.

Appearance: (Picture at bottom.)

Other Details: Enjoys the company of animals, as well as a good conversation with people. Willing to help anyone that will do the same for him. Enjoys the benefits of stealth.

1. I follow the dark-clothed figure from a medium distance, careful that he doesn’t
   see me in the crowd. I think for a moment. The Emperor has done nothing for me, nor against me. If I save his life, I could be rewarded greatly… but if this man is part of some organization, I could also have a new enemy. I scrawl a note as I walk, then hand it to a guard as I pass. It says:

Man heading towards palace. Dark
cloak. Protect the Emperor.

I glance backward, and the guards are gone. For a moment, I consider leaving the
situation to them, but I can’t. I keep close by the figure, but he’s nearly to
the palace grounds. There are no guards to be seen… My casual saunter
transforms into a rush, and I kick the rear of the cloak, where I suppose the
man’s knees must be. He drops, and before he can spin around I slip one arm
under his shoulder and the other around his neck. Several citizens howl out and
a flood of guards comes leaping from behind the entrance to the palace grounds.
They rip the figure into custody, and another group takes me in the other
direction before I can see its face. I feel I’ve made a new enemy, or many.

1. I watch for a short moment to make sure there is no misunderstanding on my part,
   but with angry shouts I realize this isn’t necessary. I dart from tree to tree
   on my approach. The old man doesn’t have much longer, but I don’t want to risk
   an all-out assault. Nor can I watch him die. I ease my longsword from its
   scabbard, then move it to my right hand and dart to the bandit on the left. I
   swing with my left hand, and lift my weapon as the man slams into the ground. Luckily.
   my enemy’s blade slips off my own with a cold shing. I kick my leg out at the expense of my own balance, and both of us stumble backward. The old man, in shock, I suppose, does nothing. I stomp on the unconscious bandit’s back (for good measure) and lift his axe. Two weapons are way too heavy. I chuck the axe, and though it lands at my enemy’s feet, it distracts him enough. The gap closes and I crack him in his weapon-hand with the flat of my blade. His sword drops, as I lift mine to point at his throat. Silence. The exhausted rasps of our breath. I swallow my spit and open my mouth to offer the man a fair surrender, but his eyes widen and a flash of rusted metal slits his throat from ear-to-ear. He falls, killed by the old man. I hesitate, but take a step in retreat and lower my sword, taken aback. The old man beams a rotten-toothed grin.

“Well, thank you young man, but I can take it from here,” he
chortles.

I glance at the other bandit, still breathing slowly. The old
man limps over, drops his blade, and raises the axe. I sigh and turn to leave,
wondering if I should ask for a reward. A wet thud from behind later, and I’m
still heading out to the forest.

1. I check my knapsack to find which supplies are low, but everything seems stocked
   and full. What else do I need? Nothing,
   really, although some of these items look like they may make life a bit easier.
   I spot a sheaf of blank parchment and a small jar of ink. Those are always
   useful. “How much for these?”

                “Only five Minas,” he assures.

                “The parchment in durable?”
 

                “You can feel it yourself.”

                I do, and it’s thick enough to hold its own, yet
smooth enough for words to flow easily from the quill. I set it down and eye
the ink.

                “And the ink won’t run?”

                “It’s the best in Abresi, I assure you. Write
letters, huh?”

                “Among other things, yes.”

                He grins. “For a moment there, I thought you were
just the odd sellsword. But you seem pretty intelligent. One of the Emperor’s
men?”

                I nearly cringe. I am the occasional sellsword. “No, I’m just a nomad I suppose. But
if he needed something, of course I’d do it.” If I got a warm bed for the night. Or a good meal, even. “For now, I’m just trying to survive.”

                “I see, I see. Like many folks nowadays. Most
everyone can return home, though. Where you from?”

                I set the ink down, and let my hands wander. They
stop over a whetstone that could fit in one’s pocket, and a new, leather knapsack.
“Not sure.”

                “Oh, I’m— I’m sorry. Please, let me make it up to
you.”

                “No, that’s—“

                “This knapsack, the whetstone, the parchment and ink,
all for twenty Minas. It’s worth well over forty, I assure you.”

                “Really, it’s—“

                “Fine,” he finishes for me. “I like you lad. And I
know you don’t have much money, nor luxury, nor a place to stay most likely.
Please, let’s settle on twenty.”

                My stomach churns. The deal is splendid, but I know
this man lives off his profits… but then again, these would increase my chances
of survival a good bit. And if he can afford to have these luxuries at all then
he has plenty of coin to go around. I nod, knowing I won’t find a merchant like
this for a long while. “Okay, I agree.” I dig the Minas from my coin bag and
hand them over, but leave feeling richer than before. “Thank you, and good day,
my friend.”

                “Best of travels! And if you need anything, please
come back!”

                I lift my hand to acknowledge his farewell, wondering
how long it would be before I returned to civilization at all.