OCaisin

The order of scrolls was meticulously inspected before the birds took flight that eve, each addressed separately in varying tone. Perhaps it was audacious of her to write so plainly to those of the peerage. Yet what farmer or shepherd had need of crushed lapis paints and pure black font, no her work was something that belonged to the affluent-or so Lynnetta prayed when she sealed the last in wax. It would be an experiment at the very least, she had need of work and mayhaps this boldness was a chance for something greater than the barrack village she had left for Valdev.  Each letter was respectfully addressed to the individual as followed: 

In acknowledgement to His Grace, Garen Baruch, Duke of Valwyck @ferdaboy

Prevja, I address your lordship with skill in the written arts and scripture. I am epia Lynnetta Ana, I am a trained scribe and illuminator of scrolls. Your nephew brought your name to my attention and there are matters I feel we could discuss.  That said, I wish to extend my services to you and the mighty Baruch name in terms of potential employment should his lordship deem it worthy. It would be my honor to serve. Godam eipae, dlum ve edlervik, druz ve edlervik.

Signed,

Lynnetta Ana Volkova of Barrowe

In address to The Honourable, Ofeliya Weiss, Viscountess of Novkursain, @tadabug2000

Prevja, esteemed ladyship. I am epia Lynnetta Ana and I do so humbly write to offer my services in the written arts and scripture. I am educated and a trained scribe, as well as an illuminator of scrolls. I extend my services to you and the Weiss name if you have need of such, it would be my honor to serve thee and commit work with the quill. Godam eipae, dlum ve edlervik, druz ve edlervik.

Your servant,

Lynnetta Ana Volkova of Barrowe

In acknowledgement to The Honourable, Henrik Amador, Viscount of Zvezlund, @critter

Prevja, I humbly address your lordship in a venture of the written arts and scripture. I am epia Lynnetta Ana, trained scribe and illuminator of scrolls. I am offering my services to the great families of Haense. I extend my quill and work to you. Should the Amador family have a need for a scholar, may I be at your disposal. It would be my honor to serve thy name. Godam eipae, dlum ve edlervik, druz ve edlervik.

Your servant,

Lynnetta Ana Volkova of Barrowe

Hail unto thee dear reader, theses services listed are offered

for exchange of gold, service, and good conversation. Scroll

illumination, book binding, scribery, portrait work, aswell as

consultation in the art of building and construction. 

Commissioning requires time and correspondence to settle

concerns of price and delivery. Please send all questions

and letters to Lynetta Ana Volkova, residence of

the great Kingdom of Haense. No shop or post bin available

at this time. 

Return to this post henceforth to inspect examples of pre-

made scroll illuminations and other artwork for purchase

forthright. Godan preserve the respected customer. 

Hello all, to begin I encourage everyone interested to interact via RP as this is canonically my characters upstart business and I would love to develop that icly, I can also be contacted through discord look for OCaisin/CasinCasino. Otherwise I am offering some fun medieval inspired pieces to dress up your important forum posts, declaring war? Use a fancy letter dressed with majesty to kick it off. Church of The Canon post? Illuminate your characters god with gold plated dividers. Historically theses took precious resource and time to produce. I am trying to emulate the hilarious and fun artwork of medieval scroll's seen in prayer and other dedications. Poses, color schemes, scenes, and line work are inspired by historical pieces and include the quirks of that art style. I am experiencing long term injury recovery and I do this strictly for fun and relaxation and will take breaks from it as necessary to maintain that. I am also a builder in my spare time and can be hired.

• Commissions and Requests are open 0/3
• Prices and information. I will have pre-mades listed below with strict costs, edits available. Character portraits will be available in the future. Pre mades are subject to be sold to multiple customers, so line art can and will be reused and is not necessarily exclusive to you upon purchase. This applies to all lettering. All artwork can be altered for House colors or other preferences for a charge. Hard drawn lines are limited in terms of editing and can be subject to additional charges or I just might be unable to be altered depending. I encourage you to look up illuminated work for inspiration if there is something you're looking for and if it's best to just commission a new piece.  I reserve the right to deny requests, and reuse lineart/edit pieces of artwork for other projects here and otherwise personal. Types of artwork and their commission prices include:
  • Illuminated Calligraphy Letter: 250 ~
  • Post Divider: 150~
  • Medieval Scene: 400 ~ 1000 +
  • Portrait/Sketch 800 Minas / 8 USD
  • Alterations and color changes for pre-mades range from 10  to 100 Minas. 
• Scribe work for in game books is varying in price and undetermined yet. 
• Construction and builds will need to be discussed and price for my time will depend and materials provided. I am familiar with castle builds, village construction, and so forth. I can emulate IG styles, etc.
  • Build Portfolio 

*Right click and open to view in another tab, quality of the file was adjusted to upload and  doesn't reflect actual quality of artwork to be received.

1 hour ago, drfate786 said:

Racist...

Nah man, just a Reenactor tossing an inside joke for shits and giggles

Edited, because jokes dont age well. Was a civil war reenactor.

50 minutes ago, 吳憾戰士14 said:

Imagine if Ramsay had just shot Jon in that last scene instead of Wun Wun lol RIP plot. Good thing Jon had that plot armour on him. That said the cinematography of that battle was ******* class, 10/10.

 

I'm self satisfied I predicted Rickon and Wun Wun's deaths, but I also expected Tormund to die, glad he didnt

They couldn't kill Tormund, the writers won't sink the BrienneXTormund Ship yet.

‘By pure accident I came across a man today in the most curious of places. The cathedral-He was suffering from a grievous set of scars, no thanks to a water demon and unskilled hands.

I was taken aback by the work that had not been done, I have witnessed many of frightful sights in my line of work to be truly bothered by the vision-I was more so undone by the lack of care taken to heal him. My loose tongue lead me to question how he came to be inflicted-wretched river beasts. But the woman who patched him up ought to be hanged and quartered for the mess she left on him, let alone on a noble’s face. She preserved the work the monster rather than undoing it. I ought to suffer the same punishment if I am to be true, I had let my manners slip and became rather offensive in my questions. I was far too fascinated by my newest theory but he took my verbal assault and prying with grace. He claimed we were equals by faith in God’s house, mayhaps I am just lucky that he was so forgiving.

Now though, there was a question that came to me. It was in the moment I looked upon him, what can we healers of do for men suffering such great disfigurement? The wound had clearly not closed properly as it healed, he referenced the woman's stitching in this matter. Of course that would be the leading issue, though there are many complications in the matter. The laceration is a deep thing and covers a great deal of his left face. As for his right side I am unsure how to treat it, I would have to examine his wounds again to find a solution for it. The skin had been plucked right from his cheek but it had already healed, though it appeared to regrow in..’

“Miss are you well-”

“Yes!” Prissila spoke harshly before she even looked up, her hands clenching at the interruption of her writing, “Quite so, be gone with you.”

Ceasing her writing, Prissila offered the stranger approaching her a dark look, she was always true to her nature the house of the Lord but to be disturbed as she wrote. Well reality bled into her and she shooed the man away most rudely, she had no time for nonsense. Most days she could offer a smile and kindly word-a false politeness. In the middle of her work she’d be hard pressed to be courteous. The man she had sent scurrying, cursed her under his breath-though the words she rather not ponder.  Huffing at the reaction, Prissila decided it was time to set away her journal and charcoal. A basket lay unfilled above her head on the edge of the mound of dirt.

Her original task to collect  a golden flower was left undone. Flouncing stalks of agrimony swayed around Prissila in the damp ditch she occupied. Her legs propped up on the sloping hill across her, boots and stained stockings in broad daylight-the scandal. A muddy woman sitting in a trench was a peculiar sight of course, she should of expected some good man to inquire after her.

Though thinking of the people around Felsen to be anything near good was contradictory, the thought was rather rude of her but that did not occupy her mind at present. She recalled the noble going as far to use ‘unwashed’ to describe the residents of the capitol. The memory of the noble making such a comment drew a sharp bark of laughter from her. The conversation between the him and herself had been candid in nature-perhaps that was why he was so forgiving for they were both equally honest. Prissila found it to be the most reasonable of answers to that mystery.  

Slapping her journal shut on notes and drawing, work had to be done. She would return to her musing after. Agrimony was a herb she did not need of often.The plant was fickle about when it would flower, so it would be simply the wisest choice now to collect what she could. Though she would have to take care not to decimate the herb population. Remembering the fact that most people saw it weed, and went as far as to rip it out. Sadly not many knew of the wonders it did for the liver or that it could help cure bad blood like she did. Tossing her book behind her, it thumped on the grass above-it and the others were falling apart with her constant abuse. She really ought to treat the books a bit kinder.

None the less Prissila sat forward, kneeling in the muck at the bottom of the ditch. Her white apron turning vile in the mire as her hands fished under the bush of green leaves. All in a search for the base of the plant. Prissila did not hesitate, taking a deep breath, preparing herself as she sunk her hands into the muck surrounding the stalk of the plan; digging it out. It was a sensation that made her skin crawl. The mud was easily shoveled aside but at the cost of coating her hands in the sludge. Prissila would be scraping dirt from beneath her nails for weeks and scrubbing twice as long to rid herself of the smell-ah wait she would always be doing that. She only allowed herself a moment to grumble, it would make the work of digging the whole plant out even more grueling. Prissila wanted the majority of the plant in tact, from root to flower; it would all be used.

Feeling the tangle of roots and worms, she repressed the urge to gag. She would only have the patience to collect one or two more after this. Deciding three plants would suffice. Prissila planned to set the majority of it out to dry, some would be turned to tincture to be stored, and a bit for an oil would do. As she continued to shovel the dirt aside and keep herself from heaving, the plant began to tilt. There was a sudden buzzing by her ear causing her jump mid task.

Waving her hand madly by her ear to shoo away the offensive bug, flecks of sludge found it’s way from her hand to face. Lovely-the sudden thought of bees reminded her of her need of their goods. There had to be a keeper in the fiefdom, she needed to make balms and honey to sweeten stubborn men’s medicine. Making sure the offensive bug was gone before she continued, Prissila chanted the words under her breath to not forget about the wax. Lifting the plant from the ground carefully as she did.

Scrambling up the side of the ditch, her boot threatened to give on the dirt. Stretching her arm she slipped the flopping plant into the basket with a little effort. A sigh escaping her as her shoulders sagged after the exertion, the sun was overhead. Beating down on her, she had not spent long in the light but already she began to sweat. Wiping her forehead on her sleeve, Prissila set to finishing the rest of the excavation of the plants; swiftly.  The rancid smell would only grow in the heating sun and she would have to bathe in roses to rid herself of the stench. Willing herself to not think long on it, instead letting her mind drift to the rest of the noble’s case she began out loud.

“...Examine the longest cut again, the skin will stretch, perhaps if scraped and pruned the wound could be resealed.”

Prissila had to cut into wounds to scrape rot and to drain them, why could she not do the same with a scar? It was a taint of it’s own in this very case. But she would have to entirely tear his face open again and sew it shut properly to make it work. That could be a rather difficult thing to get someone to agree to, well she was a professional-why would they not trust her?

“Mullien and a mix to prevent an infection. Yarrow most definitely and Slippery Elm perhaps? Chamomile or White Pine-Blissfoil is far too temperamental.”

Prissila would need more herbs for a surgery but what, and there was the matter of time needed to collect them all. She would make a list or risk becoming too scattered and leading to nothing getting done. The entire idea had been from the corner of her mind that harbored insanity, but perhaps it could work. But first she had to find the noble again, she did not even know his bloody name; a mistake on her part. A grin formed on Prissila’s lips at the challenge and she pushed her soiled sleeves up, ascending from the mud with a stalk of agrimony in either hand. The last thing on her mind was that she probably appeared a bit mad; muddy, disheveled, and beaming like a fool on the road side as she confidently muttered, “let the hunt begin.”

Prissila had heard the name 'Arnaut' whispered among fellow travelers with promises of home and work; a growing community-the Lord sought folk to settle here. Prissila sat perched atop a creaking cart that slowly approached the village, the fading light signalling their arrival. A kindly farmer and his family having offered her respite with them as their destination was the same. She had wandered long before hearing of the village but winter demanded she settled soon, so she had decided to see it with her very own eyes. 

Ahead of them the Barony sat just beyond the river, it was a rather quaint sight, it did not expand the coastline as Felsen did but she did not seek the city's bustle. Arnaut had much more to offer, hopefully peace among many other things. Prissila wondered what would bloom along the banks come spring and what lay in the forest surrounding. It would be beautiful surely, even if the land was grey with winter now, the grass dying as the snow crept across the fields. 

"Well what ye be thinkin of it lass? Looks like home to meself," The elderly farmer called over his shoulder, driving the oxen on with a crack of a wip. 

"It looks promising, a place for honest folk," Prissila spoke thoughtfully, a smile crossing her lips.
 

Out-Of-Character Information

What’s your Minecraft account name?: CasinCasino

How old are you?: 19

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?: Rule 3 on the Forum Rules about posting content that is stolen or claiming it as your own. I hate coming upon posts with pictures not credited or sourced.

Are there any rule(s) that confuse you or don’t make sense?: No, the rules are well explained.

How did you find out about Lord of the Craft?: I was introduced to LOTC by the lovely player Anastasius.

Link(s) to past Whitelist Applications (If applicable): n/a

Definitions

What is roleplaying?: Roleplay is taking on a character and writing out their interactions and life with the world and other characters around them, influenced by their history, desires, and skills.

What is metagaming?: Metagaming is having knowledge of a stranger's name, enemy plans, or knowledge in general when IC that character should not know, found out from out of game means or the msg system.

What is power-emoting (powergaming)?: Powergaming is being highly ridiculous and unbeatable  in a scenario, likely that of combat. By not giving your opponent a chance to defend or surpassing the realistic limits of your character.

In-Character Information

Character’s name: Prissila Cheryl Nuvel

Character’s sex: Female

Character’s race: Human (Heartlander)

Character’s age: 26

Biography:

Raised amongst stalks of wheat and under a blue sky, Prissila was not a heartlander born into wealth or behind the safety of a city wall. She was born amongst squalor of a homestead on the outskirts of Felsen on the 23rd of Sun’s Smile 1536 shortly before Autumn took hold of the land.  Raised the majority of her life by her father and eldest brother, Eirikir, Prissila’s mother Rowenna had left her as a babe not even two years after she was born, seeking peace in war. Prissila was born a screeching and healthy child, with the light locks of her father and her mother’s grey eyes. While born the fith child, she was only the second living child of her parents. Two of her eldest siblings, Evette and  Audo had died by the plague that arose in 1526; robbing them of their lives while they were still in the cradle.  A heart shattering event that planted the seeds of fear in her mother. The loss of her other older brother Corbin whom she would never come to know,  died a year shy of her own birth by the family’s bull.  Startled one evening, Corbin just a young lad was crushed by the beast.

The death of her third child weighed heavily upon her Rowenna, and when the chance came for her to run and be free again like in her youth- her mother took it. When the The Orenian Empire turned their eyes and blades on the dwarven fort Rhewengrad in 1537, Rowenna followed the Empire’s army as a healer to escape the ghosts of her dead children; all but abandoning Prissila and her family for the campaign despite her love for them.  Her mother had come from a line of apothecaries who passed on knowledge of tradition healing,  making her useful to the throngs of soldiers would may end of sick or wounded in the battles to come. The absence of her mother growing up left a hole in Prissila’s chest, leaving her a sullen and quick to anger child unable to understand why her mother was not present. Despite the best efforts of her father to rangle her wild behavior and local woman who took pity-Prissila would always find trouble, shucking her chores with the chickens and garden for an escape of her own.  

Finding entertainment in fighting  with other local child, she often came home with scraped knee and bruises. On days her soul was calmer, her curiosity would lead her across the hills of the countryside-disappearing for hours at a time much to her father’s displeasure. Prissila did love her father and grew to notice what her digressions did to him,  a man under stress trying to provide for his family with meager means-when she would come home running across fields it would be with an interesting leaf or perhaps a flower; something to brighten his day at the slightest. While they received letters during the years from Rowenna, it did little for Prissila whom found the written words insignificant.  When her mother did finally return in 1542 after the Empire retreated from bloody siege of Kal'Ordholm, it did not bode well for the family-Rowenna was not well received and upon the homecoming. Her mother’s attempt to embrace her ended with Prissila to screech claw her way out of the stranger’s arms. The damage was well and done.

The years following her mother’s return Prissila was slowly coaxed in to coexisting with Rowenna by her eldest brother. Trying to lighten her sour mood by distracting her; teaching her to ride a horse, taking her on trips to the city, and teaching her harder work of the farm; something to exhaust her anger. He assumed the mantle of her caretaker while their parents attempted to reconcile and they did-her mother would bare another daughter in 1546, when Prissila stood on the cusp of womanhood at age eleven. Felicie her new sister was a delicate babe that absorbed most of Rowenna’s time but perhaps for the best, fear still plagued her mother.. Though she had calmed some, Prissila resented her sister and ignored the spoiled child-for she would experience a childhood vastly different from her own.  Eirikir attempted to continue to guide Prissila as she became a woman, but it was Rowenna who had to intervene. There are some things only a mother could teach and Prissila received her mother’s guidance with a cold politeness,  only for her brother’s sake. While it was clear Rowenna doted upon Felicie, it was Eirikir’s suggestion to their mother about teaching Prissila about herbology that broke the ice.

Rowenna  had approached her about learning the ways of an herbalist and healing, like many in their family before her. It was a family tradition and it was clear Eirikir would inherit the farm.  She would either have to marry or find a way to fend for herself, Prissila agreed and received the tomes her grandmother passed had written full of notes. Prissila’s hands were not particularly delicate and were full of callous, and it took many years after to refine her hands to that of a healer’s but she’s never truly possesed the gentle touch needed for the trade. Working alongside her mother wearily for a time, fully content with a mentor and apprentice relationship with her own mother. She slowly came to an understanding with her mother.  Though verily much independent, together they began to treat local populace for colds and broken bones. The body was proving to be an interesting subject to Prissila, how it worked but her ability to study was limited. It was unseemly for a woman to handle bloodier cases,  her fascination was seen as macabre-another mark upon her reputation. Her mother had had excuses given her place in the war passed but Prissila found herself brushed aside when it came to treating wounded-trying to spare her. None the less the work she did do managed to earn Prissila a small wage of her own, one that she began to hoard-for she had her own plans now past the farm.  With the guidance  mother,  she learned much; from the uses of plants  like Serpents Stalk

for burn salves, how to set bones, to take care with how much Blissfoil  is used,  and how to stitch a wound. Their home finally had some peace by the time Prissila was eighteen. In that calm, Prissila began to seek a closure for herself. Inquiring about the war Rowenna had abandoned her for over the following years. How the front truly was, if it was worth it. The past was not something lightly brought up for her mother though, and she spoke of it sparingly. Alike in willful spirit, the pair were different in handling their fears.

A stagnation took over Prissila’s life, there were always a call or so for the help of a healer but life had grown dull. Wanderlust prompted Prissila to proclaim her plans to leave, where her aging father and brother supported her-her mother told her she would regret it; pleading for her to stay. Prissila only answered her mother by calling her a coward, and that it was time for herself at the age of twenty two to leave. She had earned enough coin to support herself if she was careful with her fund, taking to the road as a wandering healer-with her grandmother’s apothecary tomes tucked away amongst her pack. She had plans to expand on the woman’s work by studying new plants and traveling with the goal to find new mentors to quench her thirst for knowledge.  In the last few years she has yet to leave the continent out of fear what lay beyond the Empire, Prissila has traveled up and down  the coast, passing through settlements as just another traveler offering her skills only when in need of coin.

Personality Traits: Serious, straightforward, daring, curious, meticulous, mockful,  grim, stalwart, clever, independent, competitive, modest, aspiring.  

Ambitions: To continue her studies of herbs and healing, establish herself a known healer, own property.

Strengths/Talents: Minor physical strength, fleetfoot, knowledge of herbs and medical practice, farming, animal rearing, confidence.

Weaknesses/Inabilities: Grace, knowledge of weaponry, poor education,  manners,  wisdom, finances, conversation.

Appearance: Prissila stands at 5’6, an average build-oval faced she is considered pretty. Her eyes are a light grey, her white cheeks and nose splashed with freckles. Her long blonde hair drapes over her shoulder in a curly mess; to which she keeps covered with a white linen veil despite her youth.  If you catch her partial smile you will see the small gap of her two front teeth and if you shake her hand you will find toughened fingers and palms. She is modest in dress, donning a full sleeved kirtle, dressed with her apron and neckerchief-stained with some blood from her work she could not wash off.

Skin: Screenshot