Drzzter

A certain Dark Elven man sifted through piles of newly-released volumes on his way through the busy markets of Numendil. Between the charming illustration of the author, his choice of language, and the mention of Lemon Hill -- a place which now evoked a bristling anger -- he knew exactly whom wrote this and exactly which book he'd be indulging in this evening. "...I'm glad he found our conversation so...inspiring." Later, he would set aside bawdier readings in favor of Elim Temmeck's work, and while his crimson-red eyes traced the written word -- his mind was elsewhere, still livid over what was said about the late Draryn Telthaas. "Diabolist." he recalled aloud from an earlier conversation with the priest, nearly spitting on the word, uninhibited by one too many glasses of a vintage Carrion red. "It is no wonder that such a panicked, fearful man finds solace in these simplistic beliefs. How much more frightening the world must be, without that GOD whom stamps out the diabolist bogeyman..?" and the Elf shook his head bitterly. Nevertheless, he found himself oddly drawn to the work, and continued sleeplessly reading into the early hours of the morning.

The High Elder sat himself at the end of the Ashguard Hall within Alisgrad. It was a comfortable enough arrangement - but a far cry from that Great Hall which hosted the Narada. His overly world-weary features had been exacerbated by the events of the past few months, but even he could not help but to smile faintly as that letter from the Cingedoz Elder was set atop a scattering of diplomatic missives by a certain beaming, ginger-haired man. He dragged himself to an unsteady stand and began to arrange with his council - his people -, the necessary preparations for that funeral pyre which would guide the fallen Vistulians to Navia, and mark the turning over of a new page for the Clandom.

Somewhere in the north, A Pasnian man sat down with his thoughts for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The unfamiliar chill in the air was barely kept at bay by that tent over his head, and his breath hung crystalized in the air, reminding him of just how bitterly cold it truly was up here. He thought on all the time he had spent drafting the Clandom's architectural blueprints, wasted now. He thought on the death of the honorable High Elder before him, and was comforted to think that he must be trailing Koshei to Navia now. Most of all, though, he thought on the great burden that had been left to him -- how he was going to ensure that Vistulia thrived, even in the face of this horrible mess? Without the muz and dzievka expectantly watching his every move, he let his head fall into his hands as he sat there alone. A hundred times more responsibility was now his, but he had not nearly so much confidence that he was up to the task.

CLAN PASCIAK Pasciak, from the Pasnian: Paszcza, or “Mouth” ⥼❂⥽ “ZWIĄZANI ZASŁUGĄ, NIE KRWIĄ” The family of Pasciak constitutes the youngest of the Vistulian clans, founded in the now, and not in the ancient past, by Gabriel Pasciak, after having been granted the privilege of doing so by the High Elder, Casimir Vilchyc. They are a dutiful family, always striving to create for themselves the history that others take for granted. Distinct from most families, though, is their belief that stands paramount, first and foremost, before all others. “Bound by merit, not blood” That is to say, the members of Clan Pasciak are not fathers and sons, nor mothers and daughters – they are orators, scribes, and artists, tested and found capable in their respective crafts. They are the skilled and loyal few chosen by the Clan Elder to be welcomed into the family, that they might turn their talents to the betterment of The Greater Clandom. ⥼❂⥽ HISTORY S.A 87. Gabriel Lesnik begins writing texts for the Clandom of Vistulia, securing a position as scribe. S.A 89. The title of Tvorca is granted to Gabriel Lesnik in recognition of his having overseen plans to redesign the Clandom. S.A 93. For his continued efforts, the Tvorca is granted the right to his own renowned clan, forming the clan of Pasciak and shedding his birthname. Alfie Pasciak becomes the first clan member under him. S.A 94. With the shifting of Vistulia to a Greater Clandom, Clan Pasciak becomes the foremost clan of the Clandom of Pasnia, of which Gabriel Pasciak is the Clan Elder. The laws and trials of Clan Pasciak are put to paper and publicized. S.A 96. A terrible blight sweeps over Vistulia, rotting the city down to its very foundation and proliferating the city with monstrous creatures that slay Casimir Vilchyc -- then High Elder of Vistulia. With his death, Gabriel Pasciak becomes High Elder. S.A 98 As High Elder, Gabriel Pasciak instates his charge, Alfie Pasciak, as the Law Keeper of the Greater Clandom. ⥼❂⥽ CULTURE & TRADITIONS Those of the Pasciak Clan are just as culturally varied as the Freemen of Vistulia. There is no shared heritage among members, and what they do have in common stems from the great seriousness and devotion to their duties that is expected of those that take up their mantle. This makes it easy to perceive them as being unnecessarily grave or humorless, but they are nothing if not cordial. One would do well to not confuse their ruminative natures for a lack of hospitality, for they hold themselves to the same standards of friendliness and courtesy that the Freemen do, albeit in a more reserved sort of way. This reservation is more obvious when one compares them to their fellows of the Greater Clandom. While most Vistulians greet one another with the more intimate forearm shake, those of Pasciak would generally prefer – and be more comfortable giving – a more traditional handshake, considering it to be more proper. Similarly, most of them would abstain from the normally thick and wild facial hair of the other Freemen, preferring to keep it closer and more well-kept, if at all. They carry themselves proudly, but without flagrant pretentiousness – confidently, but not with hot-headed arrogance. They are outspoken, well-spoken, and lend their aid to their fellows in whatever ways they can. It is not in their nature to be as powerful as the warriors of Clan Kos, nor as storied and adventurous as the Cingedoz – but they provide for the Clandom the carefully-articulated written word, the meticulous architectural blueprint, and the very voice that carries the news, the warnings, and the culture of The Greater Clandom of Vistulia far and wide. To that end, they are served by the pigeons of Pasciak – A humble stock, primarily grey in coloration, though not selectively bred for their plumage, so some variance in patterning is not uncommon. The flock typically resides near the clanhall, absently cooing and awaiting payment (read: food) for their services. Their relationship with the family is more business then affection, thus, doting over the creatures is far from the norm. Missives are typically writ in a very fine size, so as to fit onto a small parchment roll that is affixed around the leg of the bird – but it is not unheard of for the occasional missive to be ferried by a harnessed pigeon with a greater capacity for transportation. Their coat of arms (a hold-over from their Elder’s Pasnian heritage) features a two-toned grey field split by a black bend, emblazoned in the center by a black roundel, upon which perches light grey or silvered pigeon of Pasciak – the family beast. ⥼❂⥽ CURRENT MEMBERS Gabriel Pasciak Clan Elder of Pasciak, Tvorca and Lawkeeper of the Greater Clandom of Vistulia ⥼S.A. 67-present⥽ Alfie Pasciak Clansguard Novivoj ⥼S.A. 74-present⥽ ⥼❂⥽ TRIALS [!] The following information had been discreetly tacked to a number of noticeboards throughout Almaris. A grey pigeon was stamped in the corner. Prospective members of Clan Pasciak are expected to have completed at least one trial in one of the following areas of expertise – in addition to already having obtained the status of Freeman by fulfilling the terms of the challenge defined by the reigning High Elder. One is permitted to select their specialty and thus which trial they should complete, but the specifics of the trial are left up to the discretion of the current Clan Elder, further tailoring the task to the aptitude of the applicant. ⥼Trial of Prose⥽ A test of one’s ability to articulate themselves, whether through text or oration. One must author (and provide) a suitably well-written text covering a subject of the Clan Elder’s choice, as befits his or her interests and strengths. Alternatively, if they desire, the entrant may author a text from which to read from, proving the persuasiveness of their speaking manner. ⥼Trial of Engineering⥽ A test of one’s aptitude in regards to architecture and design. Those entrants seeking to lend their talents to the fortification of Vistulia must prove their engineering prowess by submitting for approval at least one architectural draft that illustrates and describes a structure of the Clan Elder’s choice. (OOC: fork over screenshots of a cool, thematic build) ⥼Trial of Artistry⥽ A test of one’s artistic talents that do not fall under the confines of the other two trials. The Trial of Artistry is an open-ended challenge to the artisans of the realm – thus, its terms are flexible and must needs be discussed, in detail, with the Pasciak Clan Elder himself in order to be arranged. ⥼❂⥽ EDICTS I. A Pasciak must adhere to Ancestral Law II. A Pasciak must first bear the status of Freeman, as granted by the High Elder III. A Pasciak will devote their talents to the Greater Clandom IV. A Pasciak will not willfully harm the flock V. A Pasciak will not speak on behalf of the Clandom without prior conference

A humble Pasnian man fanned dry the latest in a stack of these missives, fluttering it side to side as he held it by the corner, pinched between his index and thumb. He had been sitting there for a long while, centered in the Vistulian tavern, as he courteously answered the meandering questions of those who wandered into the tavern and interrupted his work. Inevitably, and perhaps regrettably, he would encounter that same red-haired girl who requested this announcement be written, and he would ask her a simple question. "Does it look how you imagined it would, diecko?" @Lmcfc

A Vistulian scribe held a copy of the missive out at arm's length, admiring his work with a self-satisfied simper. He had read the thing over many times before as it was drafted, but found no less enjoyment in reading it for the dozenth time as he did the very first. A few idle moments passed before he finally deigned to fold the parchment and limp to the other side of the room, so as to file it away with the rest of the documents that lay barely-organized on that eclectic bookshelf.

A newly-sworn Krughai Brother-in-Arms regarded the missive scornfully, tearing a shred of parchment off the back of the massive amphibian as it lumbered past. "Hrr... hrrhr..." he drawled under his helmet stupidly, gnawing at the inside of his mouth as his eyes moved down the page. He spat onto the crude parchment as he read off the final words, crumbling it in his hands and tossing it aside. "...Balanz? Nubn't need tu provide balanz tu thoze lackin' in puwagh. Ib dah path ub dah Freygoth tu bi wazhd away bi da waghmachine ub KRUG'z dezendentz." he mused to himself, watching the billowing cloud of ash and smoke rise over the walls of the IRON UZG as he slammed his fist against his chestplate in fervent salute.

A chattering, slobbering goblin wiped the back of one gnarled forearm against the protuberance-riddled mound that composed his forehead as sweat beaded down his deformed countenance. With ragged breaths he continued his merciless assault of the jungle hardwoods surrounding the imposing walls of the IRON UZG, heaving jagged-toothed saw across defenseless trunk. He looked towards the sky, wild-eyed for a chance glimpse of his ancestors in the Stargush'Stroh before barking out, parroting the Motsham's ritual fervor: "LUP'LEYD! DAH KUBZ UB KRUGMAR AM ZOON RIZEN ANEW!"

Out-Of-Character Information What’s your Minecraft account name?: Drzzter How old are you?: 15 Are you aware the server is PG-13 (You won’t be denied for being under 13): Yep. Have you read and agreed to the rules?: Yep. What’s the rule you agree with the most?: I especially enjoy how memeing is frowned upon here. We don't need any of that dankness. Are there any rule(s) that confuse you or don’t make sense? (if so we can help clear it up!): I think I understood them. How did you find out about Lord of the Craft?: Friends recommended it to me. Link(s) to past Whitelist Applications (If applicable): I don't have any prior experience with whitelisted roleplaying servers. Definitions What is roleplaying?: To roleplay is to assume the role of a character who participates in events and adventures in a fictional or otherwise environment. While you are roleplaying you must remain in character at all times to improve the experience for everyone. What is metagaming?: To metagame is to use knowledge that your character wouldn't not have access to, to give them an edge over other people in the roleplay. People who metagame might use OOC chat to overhear a secret base or plan, or they might perhaps search up an online map to give them directions. What is power-emoting (powergaming)?: To powergame is to assert your will unwaveringly onto another player, forcing them into doing things you want them to do, or preventing them from having roleplay freedom. An example of a metagamer is a person who runs around and types things such as 'I plunge the dagger deep into your heart, instantly killing you'. Roleplay freedom is something to treasure, try not to metagame. In-Character Information Character’s name: (what do you want your character to be called?) Bennett E. Penley Character’s sex: (male or female?) Male Character’s race: (you can find all the playable races here.) Heartlander Human Character’s age: (upon application, your character must be 18 or older, and depending on the race, they can be over five hundred years old!) 43 Biography : (where does your character come from?; where have they traveled to?; what year were they born in? et cetera.) Bennett was raised by an old, plump farmer named Ollfrad, he never knew a parental figure aside from him. They both lived in a pleasant little cottage in a small unnamed town outside of Lin'Sulan. Life was good when he was a child, Ollfrad pampered him to the best of his limited abilities and he always had a full belly. The village was quaint and friendly, the warm and inviting atmosphere only broken up by the antics of Bennett. At the age of 30, he had decided he wanted to be a 'priest' and not by any regular definition of the word, for he lacked any sort of holy power, righteousness or even proper decency. The people were modest and unused to anyone having such a title, so they were always roused and ready to look in in excitement as the self proclaimed priest put on his magic shows. (These happened to be more like demonstrations of his sleight of hand, or a little bit of steam here and there trapped from the kitchen. In reality he was completely clueless and lacked any sort of arcane magicks). Bennett over the course of some months, grew more and more renowned through the village as a great and powerful wizard who would carry the town forth from it's humble beginnings as a farm based town. There were even rumours spreading about that he could defend the village from the numerous Olog attacks that had recently plagued the area. It was in the midst of a warm summer day when Bennett decided to trade off some of his father's modest crops - carrots and potatoes mostly - for some of the more extravagant luxurious items of the city of Lin'Sulan. He was particularly fond of the exotic sweets and delicacies that the Farfolk could craft with a wide variety of spices he had a hard time pronouncing the names of correctly. He had just begun to delve deep into the market strip when his old friend from the village, Tekkut burst forth from the front gate, gasping for air. He tripped over the cobbles not 5 feet away and fell directly on his plump belly, resulting in a pleasant thump. He gargled something about Ologs in the village before fainting from exhaustion. Bennett dropped all the vegetables he was carrying and flew down the path with as much haste as his already tired legs would carry him. He arrived in the center of town in time to see some of his neighbors fighting off a tightly packed group of orcs that had begun to spill in. Fire had engulfed several of the buildings on the outer ring, filling the village with a black, choking haze of smoke. Frantically he searched about, looking for a weapon. A nearby wheelbarrow carried a pitchfork with a decently sharp end. He gripped the wooden handle of the heavy tool and headed for the nearest orc. The nearest orc unfortunately was the chief of the invading clan. Several children from a fair distance off called for Bennett to use his 'Magic Death Light Ray' on the big mean brute, he winced awkwardly as he lunged forward towards the beast. It dodged the blow and returned it with one of his own, the mighty warclub smashed into the back of Bennett's skull with a crushing strike. Darkness surrounded his vision as his body went cold. He awoke some time later, his mind swirling with strange visions of oceans of blood, crested with huge demons, horns sprouting from their bony skulls. He heard them whisper strange tongues into his ears, lulling him into performing heinous acts. The skull thankfully didn't fracture, he noticed as his hand ran through his hair. He opened his eyes and looked towards the sky, all about him villagers started to ring his peripheral vision. They shuddered and sighed in relief, but over top of their appreciation of his not dying, a few shrill voices could be heard mocking him for his lack of magic use. Many voices spewed from seemingly everywhere, they yelled of betrayal and deceit, lies and fakes. He rose with an angry roar and demanded blood sacrifice for the elder deities. They all started to laugh, surely he had to be joking? Frail, weak Bennett couldn't hurt them. He snatched up a little girl in his arms and ran off cackling into the forest, the wailing of the child and the rising pitch of his voice was soon obscured by the Alabaster Leaves and Blazing Ferns. Some of the villagers tried to chase him down and save the girl, but he was long gone. 13 years later Bennett, still disillusioned by the blow to the head roams the Isles of Vailor, asking travelers if they've heard the good news about his various animal headed death gods. Sometimes if the answers to these questions doesn't satisfy him, he'll take these travelers as sacrifice to appease the creatures in his head. Personality Traits: (what are your character's quirks?; habits?; likes and dislikes?) Due to his injury, Bennett has been left with uncontrollable moodswings, sometimes erupting into violence. His profession leaves behind a lot of angry individuals who would rather like to see him dead, this leaves him in a constant state of nervous protectiveness, as can be noted by his constant nailbiting. Ambitions: (what does your character aspire to be?) Bennett doesn't have an end goal, he only wants to travel and spread the word. He is somewhat fascinated by the dark arts and wouldn't turn down an opportunity to learn how to master them in the future. Strengths/Talents: (what is your character really, really good at?) While Bennett is somewhat 'evil' he doesn't actively kill people just for the sake of killing people. He is capable of making friends and being extremely diplomatic or persuasive. He can trick the most distrusting knight into lowering his guard long enough for a quick backstabbing. Weaknesses/Inabilities: (what is a skill that your character needs to work on?) Bennett isn't very physically skilled, lacking discipline in all weapons. Appearance: (what does your character look like?; how tall are they?; hair color?; scars?) 5'7, skinny, pale as death - he doesn't give off an aura of intimidation. His muscles are ropy, small and he's spindly built. His hair is a dirty grey/blonde colour due to his age and the wear of the weather (it used to be a light brown). His eyes are light and he has a scar on his face from a scuffle with a Cavern Dwarf . Skin: (please provide us a screenshot of your character’s skin; if you need help, see our screenshot guide here.) I apologize in advance for any errors on my behalf, I tried to post one of these an hour ago but the wifi cut out and it all got deleted. This one was a bit more rushed than the last. Thanks for reading! ;>