Motjam_

Raell flinched once he heard the news. He shook his head and sped off to the castle without any real warning. As he approached the gaunt, towering building he swallowed hard and made his way inside. He sprinted to Verdant's room only to find it empty. In a panic Raell searched the entire building, searching for his tutor. When he reached Verdant's room a second time he fell to his knees onto the grassy floor. The room already wilted from a lack of care and presence. Biting back cries and tears Raell looked up into the room. "Y-you bastard." he spoke hoarse and tired, his voice wavered and shook uncontrollably. Raell chuckled meekly to himself for being so petty and he slowly stood "W-well...I guess I must once more teach myself..." he sniffed and shook his head slowly "Look at me...Caring more about my lessons than the fact you took your own life; don't blame me though...Y-....You were a murderer. A fact I swallowed my pride for, to learn. Did the guilt catch up with you?" he scoffed and shook his head "Of course it did...I hope it did...I'm sorry I couldn't help save you...May you road...Lead you to greener pastures Master." he swiveled on the balls of his feet and walked through the dour crypts until he came to his own room and slumped down on his bed, staring up at the cracked and mossy ceiling.

The perfect map doesn't exis-...

Application Username: Motjam_ Character name:Thornir Sagehand Character's race and age: Mali'fenn, 75 (at time of application creation) Skill sets: Junior Doctor Major Nation Affiliations: None really Skype: tjc1999

I am Matrim Macdunn, and I approve this message.

That! Your work looks amazing. Can't wait to see more.

I SAY! CHIP CHIP AND CHEERIO! THIS IS BALLY SPIFFING I SAY!

Top props to Lady Rebecca for sitting down and being bothered to write this out. Maximum repect + [Insert memey large number]

One of my finest mey meys

Thornir's home was a mess. That would be an understatement; pieces of armour dot the home, greaves on the staircase, gauntlets on the dinner table, a helm staring vacantly from the desk and a tabard in a crumpled pool on the floor. His house would be awash with parchment, with various scribbles and sketches, some pinned to the walls. Paper flooded his desk, where he could be seen sketching away, making various notes from on sketches he drew. Every now and then his violet eyes flicker to an old medical treatise; a leather bound book lay spread open on desk, it's spine twitching and fraying, it's wings and feathers battered, scratched and with small rips. Within the splayed treatise lay the secrets of anatomy, the structures of skeletons, how various bones fitted together. The intricacies of how each bone supported one another; various diagrams showing how a various joints should fit together and how it could be fixed if they became askew. Directions and theories for muscle movement within the arms and legs, how the biceps and triceps complimented one another in the arm's motions. The various major blood vessels that ran along them. Detailed descriptions of how the veins and arteries were structured, how the blood flow could be blocked in a vein; if you down and along the arm, causing swelling that would subside if you were to let go. The details of the artery and it's thick muscular walls. Various diagrams of organs and hypotheses for their function. The various afflictions caused by breakages in theses bones, blood vessels and organs. All this knowledge, in one book. From which Thornir was noting the hip and how it fitted together within the pelvis. But this was only the start for Thornir, soon he would read several more books. Books on afflictions, books on cures and books on methods of practice, how and when to use equipment. Thornir still had a long way to go but he scribbled on; through the pain of his tensing wrist, beginning to seize from hours of scrawling. Thornir stopped momentarily, flexing his wrist he curses lightly under his breath, slumping back into his chair; Thornir rolls his neck lazily, gazing mindlessly towards the window. It seemed light outside although fleeting, being replaced with an ever encroaching dim darkness. Thornir's pupils dilate as he became lost in his thoughts, he reminisces on his recent trip to the grove the woman with the uniquely pink hair. How she'd given him a tour and welcomed him so. A small smile curls onto his lips as he looks back to the memory fondly. The warm sea air and brilliant sunshine. A complete juxtaposition to his Princedom. Monotonous blizzards and overcast skies, not to mention that everything outside the safety of the walls wants to kill you...That is, if the cold doesn't first. Thornir thinks back to the twins, how joyful they'd been, playing in the Spring sun. He chuckles to himself softly before slowly tearing his gaze from his window and back to the restless ocean of white before him. A listening blackness topping the waves. He lets out a small groan and begins to groggily rise from his chair. He take the opportunity to stretch as he waddles to the warm glow of the fireplace, plucking a long stick from the kindling pile and submerging it within the flames. Thornir pulls it back from the fire and waddles back his desk. Cupping the small flame as he walked, before transferring the flames to a stump of a candle. Thornir slides the sketches and notes back into the old weathered book and quickly closes it, pushing it to one side. He takes the quill from it's pot, sliding another piece of parchment from the pile and setting it down on the table with a soft flap. Thornir hurriedly scrawls on the parchment, though as he begins, his writing begins to falter. The ink meanders ungracefully along the page as he writes, his head begins to bow forward and his eyelids slowly drooping shut. Thornir's head slowly tumbles down to the desk... With a sudden jolt. He awakes with a start, looking at the paper through bleary eyes. He lets out a grumble of vexation, huffing, he clutches the arms of his chair and slowly rises. His movements are shoddy and once he reaches his full height his form begins to sway. He leans forward puffing out the candle with a single breath, then he slowly hobbles to the stairs, stumbling left and right, using the wall as his anchor to keep him upright. Thornir's eyelid flickers and his elven ears droop. He pads softly towards his bed, clambering over his cover before just collapsing in the middle of bed; his breathing soft and slow. Thornir's room is a mess and that would be an understatement.

You gone forever?

I can't. Doing exams right now. I'm back on LOTC June 9th

[OOC] Username: Motjam_ Skype name: tjc1999 Timezone: GMT+0 [IC] Name: William Paget Race: Human Why do you desire to join?: My boss told me to Do you agree to PK if RP is done appropriately and well?: If it's an execution and rp with depth. Sure. None of that step, step stab.

Matrim steps out from the elevator, continuing to call out his step-fathers name, though in vain. As he calls he notices his breath turn to wisps before him. Matrim then took note of the biting cold that had engulfed the room, his hand rummages in his coat pocket as he procures a small canteen, he takes a large sip and quickly screws the lid back on, stowing it away hurriedly. The liquor seeming to allow him to shrug off the cold; his storm cloud gaze carefully peers around the room as he makes his way into the main body of the laboratory. "B-Brathal?" he calls, still no response. His surly gaze rests on a strange robed...thing...Crumpled on the floor. Matrim begins to notice that as he drew near, even the liquor was waning on it's ability to keep the cold at bay, his body began to quiver and his breathing ragged in small wisps from his now chapped lips. His eyes slowly widen in horror as it begins to dawn on him what this crumpled pile of robes was... Matrim backpedaled in horror, dry heaving in disgust. He stumbled backwards into the elevator and fumbled for the control lever. As he slowly rose from those icy depths the truth sank in further. He took another, larger, sip from his canteen though his hands still trembled in horror; liquor poured across his faces as he clumsily drunk the fluid. Matrim wiped his lips with the back of his hand and although the elevator had returned to the basement, he continued to sit motionless in the corner of that small compartment.

Looks neat

Application: Passport Full Name: Thornir Waesfiel Race/Sub-race/Culture: Snow Elf Eye Color: Violet Hair Color: White Height: 5'10 Weight: 173lbs

"Good to see that huge Empire that everyone hated is dea-....Oh."

The Steward cracks a grin, as he scans the note pinned on a notice board in the village "Merhaps we won't 'ave tae move after all!"

Thobithos' spirit is overcome with a sudden sadness but then joy, his friend shall be reunited with him at last!

[!] Whilst heading back to the village he catches sight of the flyer. "Peace n' prosperity" he'd mutter. He cracks a grin and hefts his leather cargo. Continuing to trudge down road. [!]

Adjusts his reading spectacles before hurriedly reading the note and nodding in approval. He plucks his quill from the pool of ink and begins to scrawl his name. 'Ornilius Elnsinel' (Motjam_)

Knighthood Request Motjam_: Name: Oliver Ward Age: 16 Squired to: Petyr Barbanov Intended Liege Lord: Eirik Baruch Intended Lands: To serve as a household knight within the Barony of Voron.

Full name: Tommy Norwick Age: 17 Height: 6 feet tall Hair: Brilliant auburn, ginger Eyes: Ice blue Personality - Tommy is a fairly shy, modest young boy, eager to learn the ways of alchemy and knowledge in general. He’s normally quiet and cautious when meeting new people. Lifestyle - Alignment: Lawful Neutral Alliance: Holy Orenian Empire/Order of the Dragon Profession: Squire/Alchemist(yet he awaits for someone to teach him past tea.) Magic: N/A (at this stage) Religion: Canonism Arsenal - Fighting Style: Ranged Weapon of choice: A worn, slightly faded pine crossbow. Other items: He is usually seen carrying a tattered, leather bound book in his arms. The leather is worn and stained with various scratches and distortment of the leather. A pungent aroma of herbs and roots seems to waft from the book. Tommy also carries a small polished steel dagger, slung from his left hip. The pommel of the blade bears the Norwick coat of arms and the hilt is wrapped in tough, worn, leather. Attire - Tommy can usually be seen donning his father’s uniform. A quilted scarlet tunic, padded and with a chainmail vest concealed beneath. A white pelt can be seen slung over Tommy’s left shoulder, held in place by a dulled steel broach in the shape of a feather. Upon Tommy’s hand side of his chest can be seen the family owl embroidered into the tunic, a white owl, it’s wings spread. -DEAD CHARACTER-

Sorry, I accidentally duplicated it somehow; sorry for any inconvenience.

Out-Of-Character Information Please do your best to correct spelling and grammatical errors, this is an RP server and writing is the main form of communication! What’s your Minecraft Account Name?: Motjam_ How old are you?: 15 (16 in October) Are you aware the server is PG-13 (You won’t be denied for being under 13): Yes Have you applied to this server before? (Please link all past applications): No Have you read and agreed to the rules?: Yes What’s the rule you agree with the most?: No cyber bullying; because I'd feel safe knowing that disgusting and hateful acts would not be tolerated, especially when on a server such as Lord of the Craft where you are expected to be mature and sensible. Are there any rule(s) that confuse you or don’t make sense?(If so we can help clear it up! You will not be denied for having a question on the rules): No How did you find out about Lord of the Craft?: My friend told me about it (func_Soap). Definitions Feel free to Google the answers or browse our forums, but make sure that you write the reply in your own words, not those of another website or person! What is roleplaying?: Performing a fictional characters life by decisions and other choices; for example playing an 80 year old cautious and playing a 5 year old erratic What is metagaming?: Using out of character information to gain an advantage in character; for example knowing a character's name without being told so by any other character. What is powergaming?: Performing unrealistic feats to give your character an advantage; for example duel wielding Bastard Swords. In-Character Information Now you actually make your character - be creative but stay reasonable! Make sure they make sense and that they follow lore. Try to come up with a character that you actually want to play. Character’s name: Thobithos Fanrenson Character’s gender: Male Character’s race: Adunian Character’s age: 38 Biography (Please make it a decent two paragraphs long. Remember to add server lore, and events that happened to your character so that they don’t contradict history.): Born to a pair of Adunians from Aldersburg, they didn't want their child to have to experience the repressive life of living under Oren as non-humans. They sent him away before his ears would need to be cut. His young life however would at first not seem much better than if he had stayed. A street urchin from 4, he had to what every other unfortunate would have to do, scrumping, stealing, pick-pocketing... Until one fateful day, a hand met his wrist as it tried to make it's way out of a pocket. One Alexander Faelan had caught Thobi in his act. Instead of swatting the boy away, he bought Thobithos an apple. And daily from then on, Thobi tried to steal Minas from the Faelans, each time receiving an apple for his efforts. He used his wit, however, for a different approach. Why get caught stealing 200 or 100 or even 50 minas trying to get food for a week when you can much more easily take a 20, 10 or 5 mina coin? And when it came to the Faelans, it wasn't until they were home when they noticed merely 1 mina astray. Since then, Thobithos has been a close friend to the Faelans, never straying too far from where they end up. With support from the Faelans, he no longer needed to resort to thievery to stay alive. Instead, the sport of it is what drove him. A shiny pocket watch left just a little too loosely hanging or a coin someone left at the edge of a counter; If they really wanted it, would they be so careless with it's placement? No. And now Thobi found himself leaden with antiquities, looking like a lord. Thus, he began to pose as a lord of a distant isle to attend ceremonies and balls of the upper class, but that only drove him further. The contents of a drunk ladies' handbag could stretch from a few minas to a diamond or two. To avoid being 'removed' from such events, he also developed persuasive tactics with which to trick his marks giving way to a ruthless and cunning young Adunian yet always humble to his roots with apples and Faelans. Personality Traits: Mild kleptomania, sly but loyal and in his later years polite Ambitions: Visit every nation and leave with something he shouldn't have Strengths/Talents: Pick pocketing, persuasion and use of daggers Weaknesses/Inabilities: Mild kleptomania, self righteousness , Adunian decent (infertility and mortality) Appearance (List the extra details of your characters appearance, IE; height & weight): Thobithos stands at 6 foot and 3 inches, he has piercing sapphire eyes and short curly brown hair. He can be characterised by his devilish grin and smouldering looks as well as his unkempt stubble and hair. He has a small slightly muscular build and weighs a mere 62 kilos. Appearance, please provide us a screenshot of your character’s skin (If you need help, see our screenshot guide here): http://imgur.com/PXZExWH (if the hyperlink doesn't work so just paste it in google)