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    posted a message on The Realm of Saphriel | Serious Roleplay | Frequent Events | Medieval Fantasy | Great Staff | 1.16.5

    ----OOC Info----

    -Minecraft IGN: Denivire


    -Skype name (Optional, for server chat): blunderbussboom


    -Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?: I have been doing Minecraft roleplay for a little more than four years and have created multiple successful servers and played on Lord of the Craft for years.


    -Define Power-gaming in your own words: Forcing an action, as subtle as pushing someone out of the way of a tavern entrance or as extreme as cutting their throat while giving them no chance to roleplay or retaliate to said action.


    -Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Using information gained OOC in character to you or someone else's (dis)advantage.


    ----IC Info----

    -Character name: Saint


    -Character race: Human


    -Character age: 51


    -Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. Also be sure to give previous applications a glance before deciding your job, we don't need 5 bartenders!): N/A


    -Character description(At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.): Standing at 5'10" with a rugged and unkempt chin strap with no mustache, Saint has gray clumps of hair staining the fading pure brown he once had. His semi-brown hair is slicked back and his discolored left eye begins to appear to be less and less of an eye but... Perhaps an illusory magic spell? You don't know but his chiseled chin draw you down to his dusted and clearly unwashed tinted yellow leather. A strap around his torso leave a sheath for a missing sword.


    The strange man of mystery does keep in shape and his muscular and vein-ridden arms are attesting to that notion. His legs are adorned with rusted and dirty metal down to his ankles until you reach his feet, which have classic leather boots on them.


    -Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.): Saint is, from afar, a man of few words and actions. However, those whom he trusts are treated to a wise man who lived a past life of glory and simply spends his days and nights reflecting on them. He can get lost in thought and is a philosopher at heart in his old age. He refuses to stay out of shape and when he is no longer reminiscing or talking Saint is constantly working to look and feel better.


    -Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):


    For thirty years, Desmond Graveheart fought the Pact.


    The scars have yet to fade. The souls have yet to rest. To what can a single man attest?


    Desmond Graveheart, known now as Saint, was born in ruin and rubble. His father was sent off by the Alliance when he was born. His father died before he could see him. The Pact set there eyes on the city. The marching resonated throughout the helpless city. Everyone was meant to evacuate. The pounding of the Pact's bloodstained metal boots was sinking the city itself. There must have been hundreds of thousands of them. A man from the Alliance told everyone to leave. Women and children first. Annabelle, Desmond's mother, perhaps saw Desmond as too much. The Pact had been starving them out for months and she had to feed her son. But perhaps the thought crossed her brain for just long enough... What if I leave him? And so Annabelle left. And her six-month old son Desmond was still sitting in his small cradle in their small cot in this large city, ready to die. That moment, unknowingly to the infant, hardened his heart.


    Desmond was eventually evacuated by the men who dared not to even hear the gates being breached, nevermind staring the Pact in the eye. An old man who fled from his ravaged fishing village had taken Desmond under his wing. For years, Desmond was taught the philosophy of the great thinkers over the thousands of years. However, at age thirteen, Desmond's wise adviser was given a peaceful death in his sleep. With no home, Desmond felt a bitterness in his heart.


    They left me. They dare not name me.


    And so Saint was born. He roamed the war ravaged lands scavenging for supplies. Having lived in an isolated cot in the mountains meant he was left to pick up the pieces. Soon he had to dodge Pact patrols. At age seventeen, Saint could tell he was catching up to the Alliance. He reached one of the last hospitable cities in the world and there he joined the Alliance as a disposable footman. He was sent to attack nearby Pact patrols outside the city. However, the third time he went after a patrol with two other soldiers, they were ambushed and captured. One soldier who went by the name Wolf was brutally tortured in front of Saint and the other unnamed footman. The other footman was crying as he glanced and nodded at Saint. He cut the rope off his hands with a spare knife the footman kept and created a diversion so Saint could run away.


    Saint made it back and the entire city was burning. How long had he been gone for? Who had he let down? He saw the army approaching, why didn't he immediately report back? Another failure left Saint disappointed. He quickly made his way to another city and was forced to defend the ramparts. But as usual, the Pact overwhelmed them and even though they fended them off after 5 days of continuous fighting, they came the next day and demolished the exhausted Alliance forces. Saint was left no choice but to run or face death. He eluded it again, but suffered severe injuries that saw him collapse on his nomadic trek across the continent. When death had missed so many times, a cut on his head was infected and death finally appeared to strike Saint. But as much as death pushed him to the brink, life had motivated him to keep moving. After hours upon hours of crawling, he reached a small fishing village, reminiscent of the one his old mentor spoke of. It sparked a fire in him. The beauty of life surrounded by the imminence of death. The Pact was coming, and his gash worsened. He pressed onwards, receiving treatment by a mysterious old lady the town shunned.


    The eye. It has to go. But all will be well.


    And with a few whispered words, Saint fainted on the old lady's bed. He awoke nervous and sweaty. He was alive, but what of his cut? The lady told him the infection rooted into his left eye and the only way for him to live was for her to remove it. However, she did place a very powerful illusory spell that made Saint appear to have retained his eye. Saint felt a warm feeling run through his body. Is this finally home? The lady, as if she read his mind replied immediately. For a while, boy. Now live.


    All good things come to an end. A man from the town's militia ran into town bellowing that the Pact is coming. Saint felt a similar sensation occurring in his chest. He was ready to give up everything for his home. The Pact dictated his life, but it would not do so this time. He would fend off the assault. That night, the rain poured as lightning lit up the serene night sky. It ran down the soldier's faces harder than the nerves they felt under their skin. It was now or never. The horn sounded from the trees. The Pact was coming. The orcs charged the town as goblins equipped with bows hugged the trees on the outskirts and took shots at anyone in sight. A large platoon of men were sent into the woods to stop the goblins. They were never heard of again.


    There are lots of nerves. It all goes away when the swords clash.


    Saint and the rest of the soldiers were sent to the center of town to fight off the Orcs. When they charged in, they had a ferocity that could not be matched. But it could. Saint bellowed and charged, leading the rest of the militia to join in the defense. The Orcs bled as easily as humans but they lacked the willpower that someone like Saint had. The thunder crackled as the rain ended, but blood was coming from everywhere and at every angle so it never appeared to stop raining. As Saint dug his sword into a fleeing Orc. He dropped to his knees and wept. He felt something. Triumph. For that in which he cared for. The Pact kept coming every now and then. Saint and the militia killed them all. He left their heads on pikes hanging from the fortified town which evolved from the fishing village it once was. It was a hub for refugees. It thrived. And that which thrives is hunted by the Pact.


    There were thousands of them. They stood no chance. Saint had turned forty-seven three days before they arrived. Then the Pact's horns shook the air. You could see the vibrations disrupt the peaceful sunlight that lit up the sky. It was over. The Pact were unstoppable as they ransacked the town and killed hundreds of innocents and soldiers. Saint ran from the imminent disaster. As the head of town militia, he fled. It is something Saint will never be proud of, and he will never forget it. As the flames of the town roared throughout, he could almost feel the flames touching his back. As though he was destined to burn with the rest of them. That he escaped fate itself.


    After aiding the Alliance as best he could before it's destruction, Saint now finds himself as an old man with an abundant amount of stories and an even more abundant amount of knowledge.


    -Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each.)


    You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.


    Saint cracks a smirk as he begins to sprint towards the child. He chases the child down a few alleyways and feels his ankle tumble on him as he takes a sharp turn. Saint grimaces as he presses forward and hears the child's exacerbated breathing. Saint limps over to an old rundown house on the slums of the city and finds the child under the porch terrified. He glares down and sits directly in front of the child, glaring at his ribs showing through the child's skin every time he takes a breath. Saint sighs and gets up, limping away.


    You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.


    Saint kneels down a bit and glares at the wolf and its puppies. He begins to pet the wolf's back as he looks for a way to open the trap. As the wolf continues to whimper despite the comfort it is receiving from Saint's hand, he removes it and unlatches the bear trap and the wolf goes to stand on its leg but collapses and lies down on the ground to rest. The three puppies surround the wolf as its leg is left to get better and begin to whimper. As Saint walks away, the wolf begins to get up very slowly and howls at the setting sun while Saint makes his way back to the city.

    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on Competition of Crowns | Medieval | RP | Races | Ships | Politics | Nobles
    I just checked and yes, I did go by Colbinile on those forums and did go on a few RP servers, however I have forgotten the names of which ones I was on. Why do you ask?
    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on Competition of Crowns | Medieval | RP | Races | Ships | Politics | Nobles
    Am I allowed to apply as the Highlord of the Holy Order of the Ent? If so, what would you want to see in my application?
    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on ◄【ECHOES OF THE ANCIENTS】► ~|SERIOUS ROLEPLAY »~» DYNAMC WORLD »~» REWARDING EXPLORATION »~» PLAYER-INFLUENCED PLOT »~» CUSTOM M
    OOC

    Minecraft username: Denivire


    What is your age: 15

    What is your timezone: EST US

    What experience do you have in roleplaying?: I was the owner of multiple RP servers, I played and RPed on LotC for 2+ years and have RPed on dozens of other servers on Minecraft.

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

    What is the rule you agree with the most?: Lockpicking, I guess. I think it's a unique and cool idea to have an item specifically named and have it looked over by a moderator.

    How did you find the server?: Forums.

    Why should you be whitelisted?: I think I can add a certain amount of character depth to other people and engage in fun and enjoyable RP.

    Define powergaming: Forcing an action upon another character without giving them the chance to retaliate. It can be as subtle as pushing someone out of your way while entering a busy pub to slitting a man's throat right in front of him.

    Define metagaming: Using information gained OOC (out of character) IC (in character) for you or someone else's advantage.

    Who was the first king of Redania?: Kurgan D'Arco

    Why did the great dwarven kingdom collapse?: An orb brimming with darkness

    Who are the Jarr?:Elves from the desert


    IC

    Character Name: Vengarl Forossa


    Character Age: 23

    Character Gender: Male

    Character Race, human/elf/dwarf (or a mix): Human

    Character Appearance (Facial features, build, clothing, etc): He wears rugged clothes layered with green tinted leather on certain areas and a rusted red mask that resembles a wolf baring it's fangs. (He is 6'1" with his boots on)

    Character Personality (How your character acts): Despite his looks, he is relatively easy to talk to and fairly intelligent. He has a twisted sense of humor, seeming as though he takes pleasure in the dismay of others and overall generally upsetting people.

    Character Strengths/Weaknesses (include skills/abilities in strengths): He is physically capable. A reckless fighter and mildly skilled with a blade, Vengarl enjoys employing power over finesse. He is perhaps too courageous at times, taking pleasure in risking his life to prove a point or insulting someone twice his size for the sake of getting some attention. In his current armor, he is slower than a man with no armor but mildly protected.

    Character Biography (Must be at least three paragraphs in length, include any memorable events):

    Vengarl was born an orphan in a small village. His father was no where to be found and his mother probably left with his father, leaving Vengarl a nobody. The poor fellow didn't even have a first or last name. A family had taken him in for his infant years, but when the family had two more children they left Vengarl on a carriage, giving the driver instructions to take him to the orphanage in Kurgan’s Hold. Over the next 7 years, Vengarl was an outcast at the orphanage (what irony) until another boy that was 3 years older than him was sent there. His name was Vinheim. Both Vinheim and Vengarl had a great time with each other, fencing with wooden sticks and generally spending their childhoods together. Vinheim had even gave Vengarl his name. When Vinheim became old enough and was removed from the orphanage, Vengarl would often sneak out to give Vinheim food, talk about the general crappy-ness of the orphanage, and of course fence together.

    Fast forward 3 years later, when Vengarl is released from the orphanage. He retains his bond with Vinheim and they sleep together in the same alley with the same tattered and old blanket. While Vinheim is unemployed and fairly useless, Vengarl takes the initiative and begins to work at the blacksmith, eventually becoming an apprentice. Vengarl learns about which blade designs make it pierce and which come down with more power. The blacksmith pitied the hardworking Vengarl, paying him a small amount of coin every week or so. Most of the coin Vengarl acquired would be spent to feed both him and Vinheim. Fast forward another 2 years, Vinheim develops alchoholism and begins to steal Vengarl's money. Vengarl pities Vinheim and watches every night as he sneaks out a few dozen pieces of gold for another drink. But 1 year later was when Vengarl became released from his apprentice duties for being inadequate at his job. He headed home that day to find Vinheim lying on the floor, his face blue. Vinheim was dead. Alcohol poisoning, the guards said as they shoved his limp body off into a creek to float around for the days to come. Vengarl had enough. He took responsibility for the death of his dear friend, allowing him to steal his money to inevitably kill himself. Vengarl had to change. And so he did.

    Vengarl took his last pouch of gold and traded them for some gear. He even had a custom made helmet, one that represented what Vinheim meant to him. A wolf, Vinheim's favorite animal. And so for the next few years of Vengarl's life he became a bounty hunter, serving the needs of victims and capturing outlaws in and around Kurgan’s Hold. He discovered he had a reliable amount of income becoming a sellsword. The years wore him down and he set down his sword for what seemed like the final time. The business was dying down. Stronger, faster, younger, and more ambitious sellswords gave veterans no chance in this market. Vengarl lived a life of turmoil, trouble, and toiling. It was time to settle down once and for all. To become a respected individual. One who rises from the ashes of a troubling life and succeeds. But trouble is always around the corner whether you’re king, duke, mayor, bartender, peasant, or Vengarl. It will always lurk…


    Scenarios:


    1. You are traveling along the roads of Redania when a bandit jumps out in front of you. He claims several of his fellows are hiding in the brush beside the road, and if you value your life, to drop all the valuables you possess.

    What do you do? (Enact roleplay; conversation, actions, etc)
    Vengarl: *Brandishes his weapon ever so slightly* Let me see your friends then...

    Bandit: *Stares at the brush and begins to whistle a piercing tune as three men appear from the shrubs with makeshift weapons. One wields a bow while the other two have clubs* I may be a thief, but I ain't no liar. I think I'll be takin' dat money now, eh? *The bandit on the road chuckles with a menacing amount of confidence echoing from each laugh*
    Vengarl: That's it? Three little men is all you brought? You must be a damned fool to mess with me with only three men in the bushes! *Takes his sword from it's sheath and rushes towards the bandit with a club closest to Vengarl*
    Bandit (w/ Bow): *Fires off a quick arrow into Vengarl's shin as he runs towards the bandit to aid him*
    Vengarl: *Feels the pain but grits his teeth and hopes for a slash of atleast one of the bandit's throat. He swipes from a rather long distance away but only misses by inches before he collapses and is beaten with clubs until unconscious. He awakes to find his small pouch of gold gone along with his dignity, but at least he lives.* ­e!


    2. You are inside a small inn enjoying a tankard of ale when an obviously intoxicated ( -drunk) man stumbles into you. He gestures at you rudely and tells you to watch where you’re going.

    What do you do? (Enact roleplay; conversation, actions, etc)
    Vengarl: You watch yourself you baked potato. *Vengarl is confident because the man is clearly drunk and could not win against Vengarl*

    Drunkard: W-W-What did y-you sayyy!? *Cocks his hand with an empty glass clearly meant to be filled with ale far back and chucks it forward at Vengarl*
    Vengarl: *Remains silent but his heart rate increases. He prepares for the swing and instead of blocking the fist full of glass, he ducks under and is almost knocked out from the glass cracking against his head. He raises his head after the blow and glares at the drunkard with drowsy eyes.* You're gonna pay for that... You baked ­ing potato! *Raises one hand above his head to simulate a punch to the drunkard's noggin but clenches the fist of his hand at his waist and throws a mean gut punch into the drunkard.*
    Drunkard: Hgghghhhghggghh... *Gasps for breath but falls to the floor as the pub laughs and begins to talk to their groups again*
    Vengarl: *Grabs his ale and walks out, feeling supremely confident.*

    3. You are at the market when you come upon a stall selling some particularly interesting wares. You decide to buy one, and the owner of the stall names a rather outrageous price.

    What do you do? (Enact roleplay; conversation, actions, etc)

    Vengarl: The hell is this? If I want a vase with a wolf on it, it should not be that much!
    Owner: Buy it or get out! And quit yelling... You're making a damned scene you idiot.
    Vengarl: This is an outrage! I will not let you touch my daughter for the vase, sir! You're a disgusting pervert, you know that!?
    Owner: What the hell are you talking about!? *Looks to the people watching the spectacle* I do not molest children, okay!? This man is crazy!
    Vengarl: You goddamned liar! *Flourishes his sword and grins from under his helm* I want that vase for free now, otherwise all your merchandise gets the sword!
    Owner: *Obviously panicked* Guards! Guards! This man is trying to atta - Why!? *Stares in horror as a large section of vases are broken into pieces by Vengarl's sword* You monster! Those were antiques!
    Vengarl: Hyah! *Glares into the owner's eyes* The merchant from across the street sends his regards. I'm afraid your wares were too nice to last... Hehehehe - Oh ­e! *Begins to run away as guards try to break through the crowd of surrounding customers and merchants but as he bumps others through the narrow streets a nimble guard snatches his leg and trips Vengarl up as he smashes to the floor, dazed.*
    Guard 1: I got 'im! That trip messed him up!
    Guard 2: Oi, just take him to the jail...

    If there are any issues be sure to tell me!
    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on ◄【ECHOES OF THE ANCIENTS】► ~|SERIOUS ROLEPLAY »~» DYNAMC WORLD »~» REWARDING EXPLORATION »~» PLAYER-INFLUENCED PLOT »~» CUSTOM M
    Quote from TheFireAce2nd

    Take this to PM's, Killing is a last resort action and should only be in self deffense. If you want to kill someone for money, you require an EA. If you don't understand what I mean by saying 'You are overpowered, and should work on your roleplay skills if you genuinely think you are playing fair.' Then you should refrain from reapplying.

    When you reword the entire sentence and act like that is what you wrote and then tell me not to apply because I cannot annotate what that meant when you originally said it, then perhaps it's a bit ruder and makes more sense. :I

    I think I will reapply. :D
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on ◄【ECHOES OF THE ANCIENTS】► ~|SERIOUS ROLEPLAY »~» DYNAMC WORLD »~» REWARDING EXPLORATION »~» PLAYER-INFLUENCED PLOT »~» CUSTOM M
    Quote from TheFireAce2nd

    I'm afraid I'm not required to tell you how to fix your application, just what is wrong with it. The biography isn't very descriptive, and regardless he is still overpowered. You will either need to apply with an EA, whcih is very difficult to obtain, or edit that part out of your biography. If you truely do not think your character is overpowered, you should work on your roleplaying skills before reapplying.

    So whether or not I'm a sellsword and someone attacks me or the guy who hired me - I cannot kill them. BTW, I simply do not understand what "you should work on your roleplaying skills before reapplying". What does that even mean? Were my scenarios sub-par?
    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on ◄【ECHOES OF THE ANCIENTS】► ~|SERIOUS ROLEPLAY »~» DYNAMC WORLD »~» REWARDING EXPLORATION »~» PLAYER-INFLUENCED PLOT »~» CUSTOM M
    Quote from TheFireAce2nd

    Whitelist Applications

    Denivire
    Denied, Your character sounds fairly overpowered in the way you portrayed him.
    Assassinations and murder, despite the allignment of the target require an EA.
    Your bio is fairly short when it is put into proper size.

    I can understand the OP thing to an extent, but my purpose in the scenarios was to show he was not overpowered and that his weaknesses can truly mess him up. I'm afraid I will not entirely change the backstory of my character due to the requirement of an EA. Can I make one once I get accepted or...?

    And my biography, no matter how short (lol), it describes Vengarl's life, gives important details and turning points in his life, and shows that he is a sensitive individual underneath all that armor (hence him blaming himself for his friends death).

    What exactly is it you want me to change?
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on ◄【ECHOES OF THE ANCIENTS】► ~|SERIOUS ROLEPLAY »~» DYNAMC WORLD »~» REWARDING EXPLORATION »~» PLAYER-INFLUENCED PLOT »~» CUSTOM M

    OOC

    Minecraft username: Denivire


    What is your age: 15


    What is your timezone: EST US


    What experience do you have in roleplaying?: I was the owner of multiple RP servers, I played and RPed on LotC for 2+ years and have RPed on dozens of other servers on Minecraft.


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


    What is the rule you agree with the most?: Lockpicking, I guess. I think it's a unique and cool idea to have an item specifically named and have it looked over by a moderator.


    How did you find the server?: Forums.


    Why should you be whitelisted?: I think I can add a certain amount of character depth to other people and engage in fun and enjoyable RP.


    Define powergaming: Forcing an action upon another character without giving them the chance to retaliate. It can be as subtle as pushing someone out of your way while entering a busy pub to slitting a man's throat right in front of him.


    Define metagaming: Using information gained OOC (out of character) IC (in character) for you or someone else's advantage.


    Who was the first king of Redania?: Kurgan D'Arco


    Why did the great dwarven kingdom collapse?: An orb brimming with darkness


    Who are the Jarr?:Elves from the desert


    IC

    Character Name: Vengarl Forossa


    Character Age: 23


    Character Gender: Male


    Character Race, human/elf/dwarf (or a mix): Human


    Character Appearance (Facial features, build, clothing, etc): He wears rugged clothes layered with green tinted leather on certain areas and a rusted red mask that resembles a wolf baring it's fangs. (He is 6'1" with his boots on)


    Character Personality (How your character acts): Despite his looks, he is relatively easy to talk to and fairly intelligent. He has a twisted sense of humor, seeming as though he takes pleasure in the dismay of others and overall generally upsetting people.


    Character Strengths/Weaknesses (include skills/abilities in strengths): He is physically capable. A reckless fighter and mildly skilled with a blade, Vengarl enjoys employing power over finesse. He is perhaps too courageous at times, taking pleasure in risking his life to prove a point or insulting someone twice his size for the sake of getting some attention. In his current armor, he is slower than a man with no armor but mildly protected.


    Character Biography (Must be at least three paragraphs in length, include any memorable events):


    Vengarl was born an orphan in a small village. His father was no where to be found and his mother probably left with his father, leaving Vengarl a nobody. The poor fellow didn't even have a first or last name. A family had taken him in for his infant years, but when the family had two more children they left Vengarl on a carriage, giving the driver instructions to take him to the orphanage in Kurgan’s Hold. Over the next 7 years, Vengarl was an outcast at the orphanage (what irony) until another boy that was 3 years older than him was sent there. His name was Vinheim. Both Vinheim and Vengarl had a great time with each other, fencing with wooden sticks and generally spending their childhoods together. Vinheim had even gave Vengarl his name. When Vinheim became old enough and was removed from the orphanage, Vengarl would often sneak out to give Vinheim food, talk about the general crappy-ness of the orphanage, and of course fence together.
    Fast forward 3 years later, when Vengarl is released from the orphanage. He retains his bond with Vinheim and they sleep together in the same alley with the same tattered and old blanket. While Vinheim is unemployed and fairly useless, Vengarl takes the initiative and begins to work at the blacksmith, eventually becoming an apprentice. Vengarl learns about which blade designs make it pierce and which come down with more power. The blacksmith pitied the hardworking Vengarl, paying him a small amount of coin every week or so. Most of the coin Vengarl acquired would be spent to feed both him and Vinheim. Fast forward another 2 years, Vinheim develops alchoholism and begins to steal Vengarl's money. Vengarl pities Vinheim and watches every night as he sneaks out a few dozen pieces of gold for another drink. But 1 year later was when Vengarl became released from his apprentice duties for being inadequate at his job. He headed home that day to find Vinheim lying on the floor, his face blue. Vinheim was dead. Alcohol poisoning, the guards said as they shoved his limp body off into a creek to float around for the days to come. Vengarl had enough. He took responsibility for the death of his dear friend, allowing him to steal his money to inevitably kill himself. Vengarl had to change. And so he did.

    Vengarl took his last pouch of gold and traded them for some gear. He even had a custom made helmet, one that represented what Vinheim meant to him. A wolf, Vinheim's favorite animal. And so for the next few years of Vengarl's life he became a bounty hunter, serving the needs of victims and capturing outlaws in and around Kurgan’s Hold. He discovered he had a reliable amount of income becoming a sellsword. The years wore him down and he set down his sword for what seemed like the final time. The business was dying down. Stronger, faster, younger, and more ambitious sellswords gave veterans no chance in this market. Vengarl lived a life of turmoil, trouble, and toiling. It was time to settle down once and for all. To become a respected individual. One who rises from the ashes of a troubling life and succeeds. But trouble is always around the corner whether you’re king, duke, mayor, bartender, peasant, or Vengarl. It will always lurk…


    (The text is weird because I wrote it in Word.)

    Scenarios:


    1. You are traveling along the roads of Redania when a bandit jumps out in front of you. He claims several of his fellows are hiding in the brush beside the road, and if you value your life, to drop all the valuables you possess.

    What do you do? (Enact roleplay; conversation, actions, etc)
    Vengarl: *Brandishes his weapon ever so slightly* Let me see your friends then...

    Bandit: *Stares at the brush and begins to whistle a piercing tune as three men appear from the shrubs with makeshift weapons. One wields a bow while the other two have clubs* I may be a thief, but I ain't no liar. I think I'll be takin' dat money now, eh? *The bandit on the road chuckles with a menacing amount of confidence echoing from each laugh*

    Vengarl: That's it? Three little men is all you brought? You must be a damned fool to mess with me with only three men in the bushes! *Takes his sword from it's sheath and rushes towards the bandit with a club closest to Vengarl*

    Bandit (w/ Bow): *Fires off a quick arrow into Vengarl's shin as he runs towards the bandit to aid him*

    Vengarl: *Feels the pain but grits his teeth and hopes for a slash of atleast one of the bandit's throat. He swipes from a rather long distance away but only misses by inches before he collapses and is beaten with clubs until unconscious. He awakes to find his small pouch of gold gone along with his dignity, but at least he lives.* ­e!



    2. You are inside a small inn enjoying a tankard of ale when an obviously intoxicated ( -drunk) man stumbles into you. He gestures at you rudely and tells you to watch where you’re going.

    What do you do? (Enact roleplay; conversation, actions, etc)
    Vengarl: You watch yourself you baked potato. *Vengarl is confident because the man is clearly drunk and could not win against Vengarl*

    Drunkard: W-W-What did y-you sayyy!? *Cocks his hand with an empty glass clearly meant to be filled with ale far back and chucks it forward at Vengarl*

    Vengarl: *Remains silent but his heart rate increases. He prepares for the swing and instead of blocking the fist full of glass, he ducks under and is almost knocked out from the glass cracking against his head. He raises his head after the blow and glares at the drunkard with drowsy eyes.* You're gonna pay for that... You baked ­ing potato! *Raises one hand above his head to simulate a punch to the drunkard's noggin but clenches the fist of his hand at his waist and throws a mean gut punch into the drunkard.*

    Drunkard: Hgghghhhghggghh... *Gasps for breath but falls to the floor as the pub laughs and begins to talk to their groups again*

    Vengarl: *Grabs his ale and walks out, feeling supremely confident.*

    3. You are at the market when you come upon a stall selling some particularly interesting wares. You decide to buy one, and the owner of the stall names a rather outrageous price.

    What do you do? (Enact roleplay; conversation, actions, etc)

    Vengarl: The hell is this? If I want a vase with a wolf on it, it should not be that much!

    Owner: Buy it or get out! And quit yelling... You're making a damned scene you idiot.

    Vengarl: This is an outrage! I will not let you touch my daughter for the vase, sir! You're a disgusting pervert, you know that!?

    Owner: What the hell are you talking about!? *Looks to the people watching the spectacle* I do not molest children, okay!? This man is crazy!

    Vengarl: You goddamned liar! *Flourishes his sword and grins from under his helm* I want that vase for free now, otherwise all your merchandise gets the sword!

    Owner: *Obviously panicked* Guards! Guards! This man is trying to atta - Why!? *Stares in horror as a large section of vases are broken into pieces by Vengarl's sword* You monster! Those were antiques!

    Vengarl: Hyah! *Glares into the owner's eyes* The merchant from across the street sends his regards. I'm afraid your wares were too nice to last... Hehehehe - Oh ­e! *Begins to run away as guards try to break through the crowd of surrounding customers and merchants*

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Ran out of Skin Ideas
    I've got a cool one. Make this skin, hm?

    Posted in: Skins
  • 0

    posted a message on I am willing to make a skin for you!
    Hey there can you make this skin? I only have a video but it should show enough. Add as much detail as people and maybe do one with no helm and one with - that would really mean alot!

    Posted in: Skins
  • 0

    posted a message on CLOSED)☢ FALLOUT: Ashes of Our Fathers ☢ [24/7][Serious RolePlay][Real-life Locations][Factions]
    Quote from Wolfie_seekar

    You weren't banned from the website, actually(so you're able to post an appeal). The servers within is a different story.

    Just post an appeal, you'd probably be okay.

    Where would I post it?
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on CLOSED)☢ FALLOUT: Ashes of Our Fathers ☢ [24/7][Serious RolePlay][Real-life Locations][Factions]
    Quote from Wolfie_seekar

    Yes, you are. I asked Wade.

    How? I logged into my account and could +1 posts and access all my notifications and messages... And if I was banned, why?
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on CLOSED)☢ FALLOUT: Ashes of Our Fathers ☢ [24/7][Serious RolePlay][Real-life Locations][Factions]
    Quote from Wolfie_seekar

    Accepted.

    You said I was banned from RP Craft - I'm not.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on CLOSED)☢ FALLOUT: Ashes of Our Fathers ☢ [24/7][Serious RolePlay][Real-life Locations][Factions]
    Ummm... I was not banned from RP Craft?
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on CLOSED)☢ FALLOUT: Ashes of Our Fathers ☢ [24/7][Serious RolePlay][Real-life Locations][Factions]
    **Out of Character**
    IGN: Denivire
    Age: 15
    How did you find us? Enjin Forums.
    What Roleplay experience do you have? Tons of RP servers including Akavir, LotC, Vault RP, Fallout: War Never Changes, etc.
    Define Meta-gaming in your words: Using information gained out of character in character for any reason.
    Define Power-gaming in your words: Forcing an action as subtle as pushing someone out of the way while walking or as extreme as forcing your sword through their stomach without giving them a chance to retaliate or give a response.
    Define God-Modding in your words: Giving your character an unfair advantage with skills blown out of proportion to give the god-modding player an upper hand.
    Did you join our
    website?

    **In Character**
    Name: Frank Martin
    Nickname: N/A
    Age: 206
    Gender: Male
    Appearance: A clean suit adorns the deformed 5'10" gentleman. His physique is nothing to be impressed of, but if you give him a good waft you can sense an insane amount of confidence. His plain brown eyes, bald head, and sagging pink flesh will get a wuss' stomach churning in an instant. You can clearly identify him as a ghoul, or perhaps a walking heap of pink slime.
    Personality: An arrogant, foul-mouthed, and outgoing individual, Frank can come off as a bit much. But if you get to know him better - well... Maybe you'll get used to him. He is against change and can quickly switch from becoming a calm, logical and calculated individual into a crude and stubborn sociopath.
    In-game RP example:

    Barkeep: 'Ey! It's Frank the smartypants, eh! Hehehehe... What'cha want today? Anythin' special or?
    Frank: A whiskey, and your damn best one, too. My new job is really gettin' the best of me, best I forget the most I can.
    Barkeep: Hahahaha! Frank, you always crack me up, bud. Here you go, on the house. So what is it, your boss a pain in the ass? I'd like to say the same 'bout mine, but I get paid to grab ­ from a shelf and mix it, huh? Hahahaha!
    Frank: *Smiles* Nah, it's just the environment's some ­. Bet you know all about that, hm? *Glares around the bar, then takes a swig of his whiskey*
    Barkeep: Frank, I'd love to chitchat but I've got more customers, so haul ass! Hah!
    Frank: *Nods* Yeah, yeah.

    Background:
    Frank was born in Pueblo, Colorado to two bed & breakfast owners, Maria and Antonio Martin. It was a fairly successful business for the first nine years of his life. But as tensions built in Denver, surrounding cities began to feel pressure on Denver's downfall. The crime rate in Pueblo skyrocketed, and shady figures began to find themselves in Frank's inn. Soon there were gangs prowling the streets, and school began to change for Frank. He began to become an outcast, shunned by all other kids in his grade level. Frank adopted a vulgar, crude, and mean-spirited version of himself to fit in. And it worked just great. At school he was a ­ talking arrogant ­, and at home he was a courteous son. But as he adopted his inner ­, it began to show in bursts over time.

    When he graduated from High School, Frank had no where to go. His past antics and attitude left him with no real friends he could trust or liked, and his mother and father were sick with a life-threatening flu and his mother had terminal cancer. Frank made a selfish decision he will always live to regret; he left his mother and father and began to travel across Colorado, looking for a job. He eventually found West Tek, where he became a delivery man. Frank traveled across America, transporting West Tek shipments across the country. He found himself learning lots about people during his fifteen years delivering shipments. But a week after Frank's fifteen year anniversary, tensions rose between the USA and China. And then the bombs dropped.


    Frank panicked and he lived out of his delivery truck for about two weeks. He would make small stops to loot food from gas stations, but then he began to feel very sick. With what little energy he had, he drove 200 miles to West Tek's HQ in Colorado for help. What h came upon was a giant crater. Frank was broken. He thought there was simply no more hope. Frank began to get more and more sick. He would vomit day after day for months. As the fallout set in, Frank's skin began to peel off. As civilization began to rebuild itself, Frank began to roam the streets aimlessly to live. As he lingered on, he faced many struggles, and he loses the willingness to survive. But as new faces began to surround him, who knows what could happen in the heartless wasteland. It took a few dozen years for Frank to become bored of his surroundings. Squatting just wasn't his thing anymore. He headed west towards Salt Lake City when a sign covered in blood which he could decipher only as S.O.S...

    *Powers up Vault Boy 3000*
    Posted in: PC Servers
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