Pinkevilgirl

Simple crest made for a Warcraft Character of mine.

-Faded images- She couldn’t remember much. In fact, the fragmented pieces she could remember were hazy at best. Although, occasionally, a deeply buried thought would force its way to the surface. Triggered perhaps by an image, a sound, a scent or a feeling. Although rarely when she was awake. For some reason, those lingering images stayed buried better when she was conscious. However, once asleep, once her mind had been left to its own devices as was often the case when you slept? Well, then things changed. And what had been forgotten or repressed, was sometimes able to wiggle its way free of the chains that held it down. As was the case with the shadowy figure which silhouette stood painted against a dark night sky, wind whirling up the snow all around it and tugging at what appeared to be a big fur cloak resting over its shoulders. Menacing and with an air of dread to it, the figure loomed there, looking down just as she was looking up and suddenly, she felt cold. Cold as she realized she was on her knees in the snow, the delicate little crystals biting into her skin and melting to drain the heat from her already trembling fingers. Her body felt as if made of lead. The light of an icy moon revealing the gleam of metal in the dark figure’s hand, travelling along the edge of a jagged blade and reflecting in white dead eyes that revealed nothing but a hollow emptiness. So heavy… She could barely move. Everything ached. Heart racing and breath heavy, her lounges screaming with every breath of night air that was forced into them, chilling them from within and making her chest feel as if it was trying to explode. And that sensation of hopelessness. The knowledge that all was lost and yet, deep down, a small ember of burning spite not wanting to be quenched. In her dream, she wept. The trails of tears sliding down her face without a sound, her teeth grit and her brows furrowed. In her dream the shadow raised its sword to strike and she raised hers. The wolf pommel blade moving as if in slow motion. The metal catching the flickers of snow that danced through the air all around them as time itself, in that little pocket, slowed and seized to exist. She could hear her heart. She could sense the beating of it. T-thump. T-thump. T-thump. Metal struck metal. The jagged edge of the shadow’s sword shattering that of her own. And suddenly, time returned. Her ice blue eyes widening in shock as the blade struck true and cut into her neck, drawing blood and… … with a gasp, Saga bolted upright in her bed, bathed in a sheen of cold sweat as she found herself shaking. Her entire body tense and on edge as if she had been running for hours. Her breath ragged and trembling even as her hand moved to her throat to feel the scarred skin that ran across it. Those raised bumps of paler flesh forever reminding her of a night that was but a nightmarish memory to her now. One she couldn’t even tell if was true or just the creation of her own mind. She felt sick, a trembling hand lifting to brush across her brow while closing her eyes and focusing on simply steading her breath. The scents of the cabin creating an anchor from the lingering reality of her dream. Metal, wood, the smoldering embers still glowing a dull red in the fireplace. Those were real. The feel of furs beneath her and the fabric of her shirt against her skin a sharp contrast to the cold dread that had been gripping at her heart. And she needed to bury herself in those feelings and scents less she let the darkness creep back into her mind. The woman silently reminding herself that she was safe, she was warm and she was alive. The shadows of the past unable to reach there. Although sometimes… sometimes it was really hard to believe her own mind when her heart kept telling her otherwise.

-Lonely mountains- The dull thump and the sharp crack echoed through the forest briefly before falling dead to the ground, muffled by the soft powdery white that blanketed the woodland. A pause and another dull thump and sharp crack echoed once more before being followed by silence. The steady rhythmic sound repeating itself a few more times before the heavy ax finally found its final foothold in the tree stump and was left there to rest. The metal edge buried deeply into the wood. It was slowly leaning towards dusk, the sun's last few rays of light turning golden and bathing the landscape in their glow as the fur clad woman leaned down and picked up another one of the newly chopped pieces of firewood, stacking it neatly into the crook of her arm. Much like the landscape around her, she was quiet, only the sound of her feet brushing the snow aside and that of her clothes shifting a little as she moved, marking her presence. The backdrop of the snowy mountains and pine clad hills seemingly otherwise desolate and deprived of life. Even though someone who understood the landscape would know, there was always more than met the eye. The woman, whose eyes was the colour of the ice currently springing forth like jagged teeth along the waterfalls, smiled a bit to herself and tucked the broad scarf a little tighter around her neck. Her scar always aching a bit when exposed directly to the solid cold, although it seemed like a small price to pay to be able to enjoy a landscape such as that. Besides, she loved the silence, because unlike a lot of people, she preferred the space and the freedom that came with it. The woman never having been one for crowded places like cities. There was too much noise. Too many scents. Too many people. No, out there, just her cabin nestled among the mountains. The lone trail of smoke rising from the chimney of the blacksmith and painting itself as a contrast to the clear blue sky? Yeah, that was the good life. Just how she liked it. Just how she wanted it to be. But was it how it was going to stay? She didn't know. The heavy leather boots pushing the snow aside as she turned from the chopping block and walked back towards the wooden cabin, kicking a bit of the snow off on the stairs before stepping inside. What snow still clung to her clothes quickly starting to melt in the heat from the furnace at the end of the open room. Snow, mountains and a lively fire to warm your hands on? What more could a northerner ask for.

No worries, as it turns out, no one ever really becomes an adult, you just grow older and learn to fake it as you realize that's what everyone else is doing XD Seriously. Me including. Sometimes wonder if my boss is an adult.. but then I remember all the times he drops by our offices to show the latest awesome over prized apple gadget and I realize that, naaah. And hey, what's wrong with orcs? Love orcs. Orcs orcs orcs. I was torn between making a human or a greenskin, but ended up on the human side simply because it would be a slightly easier starting point ;) Thanks for all the warm welcomes and the offers of help. Stupid questions are bound to happen sooner or later :P I am very good at those.

Right, introductions... I was never any good at this so gonna give the quick recap. I'm Pink, I'm 32, mother of one, married with house, dog and stationwagon to complete the picture. I am originally a farm girl, but while I live int he countryside I work at a research institute where I make 3d models and work with graphics. I got a bachelor in Computer games design and programming and because I almost forgot to add it, I am Norwegian and hang around in GMT+1. I have rp'd since junior high. AD&D got me started and since then I've done everything from tabletop (fantasy to modern to sci fi), to miniature games (WH40k, Blood Bowl), to online forums and online gaming. I also draw, write way too much, hunt (moose and deer) and game, when not spending time with the critter and the family, obviously. I am though, completely new to rp'ing in MC, and fairly new to MC in general as I only started a couple of months back, so this ought to be interesting and I will need some time to get into the flow of it all. However, I am looking forward to gaming here and I'm looking forward to having a fun time with you all. If anyone's got any questions or anything, feel free to post'm here. I'll be around :) -Pink

-Saga Northwood- Nicknames: Whisper Age: 23 years Gender: Female Race: Human Height: 5'7'' (170cm) Weight: 156lbs (70kg) Eyes: Icy blue Hair: Borderline white Body Type: Muscled athletic Skin: Pale, does not tan nor does it seem to get burnt Distinguishing characteristics: Has a jagged scar running across her throat which original injury damaged her vocal chords, leaving her with a hoarse raspy voice. As a result, she speaks sparingly as it strains her voice. In addition, she has several other smaller scars, ranging from what looks like old burn injuries to cuts to claw and bite marks though none as distinct as the one running across her throat. What she does however have, is an extensive set of tattoos which covers most of the right side of her back in addition to her right arm and additional tattoos on the inside of her left lower arm and on the left side of her chest. Full details in the appearance section. Appearance: Standing at about 5'7'' (170cm) with broad shoulders and an athletic build, Saga's easily distinguishable as a Northerner with pale skin, paler hair and eyes the colour of ice. Her hair, unlike that of most women in her culture, is kept short with the exception of a couple of long thin braids tucked behind her right ear and decorated with a few beads of glass and wood. Her clothes, likewise, are simple but durable, made from dark leathers and fur complete with heavy boots and a wolf fur cloak resting over her shoulders. The teeth of said wolf decorating a necklace around her, well, neck, since that where you generally wear necklaces. Her skin is marked by a few scars, and a few tattoos, most of which seemed to be stylized silhouettes outlined with black and blue colours. Although most of them are hidden from view with just a hint at what is there showing when she's wearing short sleeves exposing her arms. What is noticeable though is the fact that she always, even during the summer, tends to wear a scarf around her neck, covering it up. The reason for this isn't widely known but if she was to remove it, you'd be able to see a long jagged scar running across the pale skin of her throat. Saga's tattoos cover most of her left arm, travelling up and across her shoulders and down almost the full right side of her back, made in black, flat blue and shades of gray to portray the tribal style patterns, symbols and mythological creatures typical to the northerner tribes. All the tattoos are of the same style, made in colours of flat black, flat grey and the inverted version (skin colour), with gray work only used for such things as clouds and wind and blue to detail and make it pop. The ornamental patterns weave their way up her right arm, looking like dragonesque serpents right out of mythology. The necks of said serpents weaving and threading over and under each other, with one coming back to bite down on its tail while another seem to dig its fangs into her flesh. Said ornamental patterns weave over her shoulder where their join to form a gaping wolf's head complete with engraved fangs, facing towards the center of her back there it rests upon her shoulder blade. A few more of the same style of patterns continuing down the right side of her back where they appear to look like hanging branches from which the silhouette of birds in flight can be spotted. Gray work clouds and snow crystals have also been incorporated with the darker patterns. And hidden among the clouds are the discreet outlines of even more wolves, running with the winds and forming a pack. While other silhouettes hints at other creatures hidden among the detail work to which the darker colours are set. In addition, a bird's silhouette rests upon the swell of her left breast, seemingly in flight. While tattooed in bold runes on the inside of her left arm are the words "Tamdir ulfar hagar ser eins hundar" (Domesticated wolves are nothing but dogs). All in all, it’s is truly an impressive piece of work, that seem to constantly reveal more as one looks closer. Personality: Saga doesn't speak much, in fact, it happens so rarely that a lot of people haven't ever heard her actual voice. This isn't because she doesn't have one however, but because, were she to pull down the scarf that always obscures her throat, one would find a long jagged scar running across it. The scar, the result of an old injury that should've killed her, left her with a permanent damage to her vocal chords. She can still speak but her voice is raspy and a bit distorted. The woman, more often than not, whispering the few times she has to speak due to the strain it puts on her vocal chords. As such, she is often mistaken for being difficult or arrogant or just stupid. But the truth is she isn't any of those things. Or well, maybe difficult, no one ever claimed she was perfect. What she is though, is stubborn and hard headed but loyal to those she's taken to trusting. The woman a loyal soul once her trust has been given, although she's equally vengeful if she was to find said trust broken. More often than not however, Saga's happy just doing her own thing and generally don't seek out trouble even if trouble occasionally seeks out her. Because her laid back nature isn't one that strives for power or influence but which is merely content living a good life. Not everyone needs to be a hero. Strengths: A hunter and woodsman, Saga is at home in the forests of the cold north, capable of living off the land. She has some blacksmithing skills, most likely derrived through an apprenticeship at some point in her life. And appears to have a natural affinity with animals, canines in particular. Weaknesses: To say she's uncomfortable in warm climates would be an understatement, likewise, she is not very good with well, civilization. She isn't an hermit, she just wouldn't be able to thrive in a city and tends to grow uneasy when feeling too confined. It's also well worth noting that her damaged voice makes communication, at times, difficult. The woman rarely speaking and more often than not defaulting to sign language to communicate. Alignment: Chaotic Good Deity: - Religion: - Job/Class: Blacksmith Profession(s): Blacksmith Special Skill(s): A blacksmith by trade, her skill set is one of a survivor and huntsman. The woman at home in the wild, tracking, hunting and surviving in environments not necessarily suited for human life. What she considers her greatest strength though is her natural affinity with animals, canines in particular. Fighting Style: Trained Weapon: Favored Weapon: One handed sword or one handed ax. While a decent enough fighter, she, like any fighter, has her favoured weapons and style of fighting. But while she would prefer to have an ax or sword in hand, when push comes to shove, a hammer or other one handed weapon would do with as well. Archery: Saga is actually decent archer. Not her favoured weapon in a fight, but as a hunter, one she wouldn't want to be without. The woman favouring a strong composite longbow she has made herself. Parents: Unknown Siblings: Unknown Children: None Extended Family: None Pet(s): History: It's hard to say for sure where Saga's originally from as her story begins but a couple of years ago when she woke up bloodied and beaten in the mountains. Whether caught by an avalanche or something more sinister and left for dead, she dug her way out of the snow of the Hallowvale mountains and stumbled her way to civilization while bruised and bleeding, collapsing on the door step to a tavern. And that, was the beginning. Because waking up hours later in a warm bed with worried faces all around, she couldn't recall who she was or where she was from. The only reason they even had a name to call her by being the rune stone hanging from her bracelet which spelled the word "Saga". She'd carried a broken sword with her, only the hilt and about a foot of the blade remaining as it appeared to have been snapped clean off. The pommel of which was the shape of a wolf's head. A clue perhaps as to her origins, but not one that helped pin point it any further. What was obvious however, was that Death must've been cursing her escape as she had been found with her throat slit but somehow still alive. A jagged scar and damaged voice a seemingly small price to pay for having survived what should've been a untimely death. Regardless, there was no point lingering on what had been or what had happened. Specially not when she couldn't remember it. And as it always does, life went on. Because the world doesn't slow down just because your life has been uprooted and thrown into chaos. Saga, once recovered enough to travel, took to the road. Not really having much of a goal in mind as much as feeling there was something in her that needed to move, needed to travel, as if it was searching for something she couldn't name. Her journey slowly bringing her northbound towards the Holy Oren Empire. though for what reason, she's yet to figure out.

What’s your Minecraft Account Name?: PinkEvilGirl How old are you?: 32 Are you aware the server is PG-13 (You won’t be denied for being under 13): Yes Have you read and agreed to the rules?: Yes What’s the rule you agree with the most?: Several of the rules are important and choosing just one is kind of difficult. However, I've always said that the point of RP is to have fun and for all parties involved to have fun. Så I'm going to go with with the rule on " II. Harassment - obsessive, malicious or nefarious behavior directed toward another player will not be tolerated." People ought to be able to act like adults, it's not really that big of a challenge. Are there any rule(s) that confuse you or don’t make sense?: No How did you find out about Lord of the Craft? Random video on Youtube! The gateway to all things on the internet, not just cute cat videos shot with a wide angle lens. Definitions What is roleplaying?: To take on the role of a fictional character. In fact, it's a lot like improv. Because while you might have a character you yourself has created, with background and personality by your own design, you play in a world where anything can happen and very few things, if any, are planned. You are expected to act and speak and be your character, much like an actor is expected to act out his character, be it for a play or movie. What is metagaming?: The short definition of meta gaming is using ooc knowledge ic. That is to say, taking knowledge you, as the player, is aware of, but which your character would not be aware of, and using it ic anyway. By doing so, you blurr the line between ic and ooc. It's sort of like cheating on a test. You don't know the answer to a question, but you got google up on your smartphone so you use that to give you an edge. What is powergaming?: To some, winning is everything. Even in rp where the point ought to be the story and character development. Powergaming means breaking or bending the rules to make yourself (your character) more powerful. This comes in various forms, be it outright breaking the rules by having knowledge/skills/equipment your character wouldn't actually have. Or, dictating the outcome of your actions when it pught to be up to the characters affected by your actions to determine the outcome. Example, saying your strike hits and severs your opponents arm without allowing him a chance to react. The correct emote would be to say you attempt to cut his arm off, or sayign that your swing your sword at him. Another example of pwoergaming would be to ignore others, essentially cherry picking which actions/emotes etc you wish to react to and ignoring those which might be troublesome. In-Character Information Character’s name: Saga Northwood Character’s sex: Female Character’s race: Human Character’s age: 23 years Biography: It's hard to say for sure where Saga's originally from as her story begins but a couple of years ago when she woke up bloodied and beaten in the mountains. Wether caught by an avalance or something more sinister and left for dead, she dug her way out of the snow of the Hallowvale mountains and stumbled her way to civilization while bruised and bleeding, collapsing on the door step to a tavern. And that, was the beginning. Because waking up hours later in a warm bed with worried faces all around, she couldn't recall who she was or where she was from. The only reason they even had a name to call her by being the runestone hanging from her bracelet which spelled the word "Saga". She'd carried a broken sword with her, only the hilt and about a foot of the blade remaining as it appeared to have been snapped clean off. The pommel of which was the shape of a wolf's head. A clue perhaps as to her origins, but not one that helped pin point it any further. What was obvious however, was that Death must've been cursing her escape as she had been found with her throat slit but somehow still alive. A jagged scar and damaged voice a seemingly small price to pay for having survived what should've been a untimely death. Regardless, there was no point lingering on what had been or what had happened. Specially not when she couldn't remember it. And as it always does, life went on. Because the world doesn't slow down just because your life has been uprooted and thrown into chaos. Saga, once recovered enough to travel, took to the road. Not really having much of a goal in mind as much as feeling there was something in her that needed to move, needed to travel, as if it was searching for something she couldn't name. Her journey slowly bringing her northbound towards the Holy Oren Empire. though for what reason, she's yet to figure out. Personality Traits: Saga doesn't speak much, in fact, it happens so rarely that a lot of people haven't ever heard her actual voice. This isn't because she doesn't have one however, but because, were she to pull down the scarf that always obscures her throat, one would find a long jagged scar running across it. The scar, the result of an old injury that should've killed her, left her with a permanent damage to her vocal chords. She can still speak but her voice is raspy and a bit distorted. The woman, more often than not, whispering the few times she has to speak due to the strain it puts on her vocal chords. As such, she is often mistaken for being difficult or arrogant or just stupid. But the truth is she isn't any of those things. Or well, maybe difficult, no one ever claimed she was perfect. What she is though, is stubborn and hard headed but loyal to those she's taken to trusting. The woman a loyal soul once her trust has been given, although she's equally vengeful if she was to find said trust broken. More often than not however, Saga's happy just doing her own thing and generally don't seek out trouble even if trouble occasionally seeks out her. Because her laid back nature isn't one that strives for power or influence but which is merely content living a good life. Not everyone needs to be a hero. Ambitions: To build a life and a home and make an honest living for herself. It's not a big dream, not a very big ambition, but it's what she's hoping to do. Strengths/Talents: A hunter and woodsman, Saga is at home in the forests of the cold north, capable of living off the land. She has some blacksmithing skills, most likely derrived through an apprenticeship at some point in her life. And appears to have a natural affinity with animals, canines in particular. Weaknesses/Inabilities: To say she's uncomfortable in warm climates would be an understatement, likewise, she is not very good with well, civilization. She isn't an eremit, she just wouldn't be able to thrive in a city and tends to grow uneasy when feeling too confined. It's also well worth noting that her damaged voice makes communication, at times, difficult. The woman rarely speaking and more often than not defaulting to sign language to communicate. Appearance: Standing at about 5'7'' (170cm) with broad shoulders and an athletic build, Saga's easily distinguishable as a Northerner with pale skin, paler hair and eyes the colour of ice. Her hair, unlike that of most women in her culture, is kept short with the exception of a couple of long thin braids tucked behind her right ear and decorated with a few beads of glass and wood. Her clothes, likewise, are simple but durable, made from dark leathers and fur complete with heavy boots and a wolf fur cloak resting over her shoulders. The teeth of said wolf decorating a necklace around her, well, neck, since that where you generally wear necklaces. Her skin is marked by a few scars, and a few tattoos, most of which seemed to be stylized silhouettes outlined with black and blue colours. Although most of them are hidden from view with just a hint at what is there showign when she's wearing short sleeves exposing her arms. What is noticeable though is the fact that she always, even during the summer, tends to wear a scarf around her neck, covering it up. The reason for this isn't widely known but if she was to remove it, you'd be able to see a long jagged scar running across the pale skin of her throat. Appearance, please provide us a screenshot of your character’s skin (If you need help, see our screenshot guide here): Warrior Girl Skyrim