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    posted a message on The Realm of Saphriel | Serious Roleplay | Over 70 Plugins | Frequent Events | Medieval Fantasy | Great Staff | 1.14.4

    (Posting for a friend, since they don't have a Minecraft Forums account~)

    ----OOC Info----

    -Minecraft IGN: HollowGold1


    -Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): N/A


    -Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?: Extensive experience in D&D and MCRP as well as having owned my own server in the past


    -Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is forcing actions on another character, not allowing them to react or emote. (As an example, it would be like stabbing a character without allowing them time to even dodge or emote.)


    -Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-gaming is using information that you learned OOC to benefit yourself IC.


    -Define Role-Playing in your own words: Role play is adopting the life of a character, much like acting, the character existed in the world before you played them and, as long as they don’t die, will exist after you leave.


    ----IC Info----

    -Character name: Rivan Talrythin


    -Character race: Human


    -Character gender: Male


    -Character age: 35


    -Character Occupation: Blacksmith and Swordsman, with minor experience in mining.


    -Character description: Short, brown hair frames a narrow, tense face. Wide blue-green eyes full of weariness and longing are set symmetrically into his tanned, scarred face. A narrow line of scar tissue rests near his temple, along with a few other smaller, less significant scars along his cheek and face, a token of battles won and lost. He stands six feet, five inches tall, blending well into a crowd despite his muscular frame. He wears a loose shirt and coat, and a sheath at his belt that holds a sharp blade.


    -Character personality and traits: Rivan is a gruff but kind man, with gentle eyes that hold only the slightest edge to them. His demeanor is strong and he stands tall and proud, and he is courteous and reckless, jumping at any chance to fight or defend a true purpose. He is rarely an affectionate man, excluding those that he becomes close friends with. Rivan is bad with emotions, and even worse with comforting people he doesn't know very well. He's outgoing and witty, and speaks with a lilting tone, often calling people "lad" or "lass".


    -Character biography:


    A soft, lilting hum filled the cool autumn air. Heavy footsteps follow the voice, soft thuds connecting with the ground as the man walks. With each soft step, the man's voice grows a little louder, a little more sad.


    "If you keep humming like that," the boy next to him spoke up, his own footsteps accompanying the first set, "you're going to scare off all the game. I would like to eat tonight." The boy was his apprentice, a man of simply twenty years old. He was young, and much shorter compared to Rivan. He was training the young lad in the way of the sword. As a young boy, Rivan was taught by his mother to wield, and has since become a near-master in the art.


    "Oh, please," the first grunted, voice deep and gravelly, "if a little singing scares the deer away so much that you can't catch one while it's runnin', you don't deserve to eat, lad." A small smile tugs at the man's lips, head cocking to the side.


    "You know that you wouldn't be able to get it either, Rivan," the younger said, looking up at the man in front of him. Rivan was taller than him by a long shot, eyeing the younger boy that he had taken as a travelling companion. The two had grown closer over time, but their friendship still remained playful and competitive.


    The peace between the two men was cut short, sliced with an arrow through the younger's neck. The seconds passed like years as he watches his companion's body drop like a doll to the ground, fragile, his pale skin as if it were made of porcelain. Rivan felt his arm jerk to the side as another arrow buried itself into his arm. However, he did not feel the pain; instead, he felt a soft rush of darkness lulling him to sleep.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    His lips curled into a deep, grating snarl, hands moving toward the nearest pickaxe- a simple tool with a handle carved of ash wood, the head made of a heavy steel. That had been their first mistake; they had assumed that the men that they held in cages, branded with their irons, beat with their whips, were broken. That they had broken them long ago and had not a thing to worry about. Besides, they thought; what could a slave do with a simple pick, when we have swords?


    The small slaving caravan ran under the false title of a trading company. Under this guise, they captured younger, susceptible men from the roads by luring them in with food and drink, before drugging and kidnapping them. Each young man was branded between the back of his shoulders with a deep circular mark burned into the skin.


    The mark was thought to discourage them from escaping or rebelling, as it was easy to tell previously-owned slaves from the rest. His skin was worn and leathery, but he retained his youthful features, albeit je appeared a bit older due to his now-growing beard. The guards of the caravan didn't expect a man to trigger an explosion in the mine they were forced to work in, however. The explosives were used for controlled demolition. In most situations, the explosives were locked in the back of the caravan, only retrieved by the caravan's guards when needed for demolition. However, with a bit of work at the lock with one of the pickaxes, it was easily broken into by two of the larger slaves.


    Rivan's fingers clasped around the handle of the pickaxe and he hefted it, resting it over his shoulder with one hand. Two years of mining, two long, pained years of being whipped, starved, abused. It was a wonder how much he managed to keep fit and healthy, regularly stealing portions after everyone had gone to sleep. It had been easy, nearly effortless to sneak past the guards - he may have been a large man, but they weren't particularly attentive.


    He weaved his way through the crowd of slaves and slavers, the group stampeding like a mad herd of deer toward the nearest fence that lined the outskirts of the mine. Rivan shoved past a guard or two, and when one placed his hand on the slave's shoulder, he jerked his shoulder back, swinging the blunt edge of the pickaxe into the man's head. Of course, were he in any other situation, he would have simply knocked the man out instead of likely killing him. But this was a mad dash for freedom, a mad dash to get himself and his companions out of their prison. A mad dash for revenge for the young boy he had become so close with those years ago.


    The stampede split into three different directions once out of the gate with few straying from different paths. Those that were mad or sick in the head ran toward the rising sun. The others carried malnourished, ill slaves, sprinting down the roads while the others behind them fought off the guards. The heavy smell of smoke and gunpowder clung to Rivan's beard, filling his lungs. You would think, after time, your body would grow accustomed to the poor conditions of the mine. But even months later, he was still coughing up dust and ash from a previous collapse that had taken three men in his squad. Blood slipped down his back, down his forehead and hand from where he was snagged by a guard's blade and hit in the head. Driven by an unknown force, his legs dragged him along, arms pumped by his side, as it all became a faint blur.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    A man has to make a living to eat, and when you are an escaped slave, word among others spreads quickly. His work was simple work; the blood spilled by his hands no longer phased him; at least, he didn't yet allow himself to realize what he had done. It was the purpose, the job of a mercenary to do what he was told in order to make himself a living. Even with a heavy purse at his belt, he felt no joy, no confidence. The man felt like an empty shell, and he hadn't the faintest idea if he could be fixed. But as he boarded the ship, something ached in his chest. Hope? Fear? He could no longer recognize the feelings, but it was something. And so, gripping his chest, he looked into the water with resolve.


    -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.


    Rivan would chase after the child for a short time before sighing and letting him go, a pickpocket probably needs it more than he does and there’s always coin to be made elsewhere. He’d wander the streets and alleys after, half hoping to find the thief and half hoping to find some trouble to get into. After an hour or two he’d pull the secret stash of coins from his boot and buy some food, sitting down somewhere shady to enjoy it.


    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.


    Rivan is too much of a soft heart to let the wolf die. He’d take his time to show her that he means no harm before releasing her and stepping away from the puppies. Once the wolf is gone he would destroy the trap and search for others, they are cruel and he hates them.


    Extra notes (Optional, could include theme songs, pictures, etc.): Skin:

    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on The Realm of Saphriel | Serious Roleplay | Over 70 Plugins | Frequent Events | Medieval Fantasy | Great Staff | 1.14.4

    Mmm - I don't mean to be rude, or pushy or anything, but I think you didn't see my app, since I've uh. Sort of been waiting three days or so. Again, sorry if it's pushy to ask.

    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on The Realm of Saphriel | Serious Roleplay | Over 70 Plugins | Frequent Events | Medieval Fantasy | Great Staff | 1.14.4

    ----OOC Info----
    -Minecraft IGN: BirdPrinceCecil


    -Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): n/a


    -Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?:

    Yep! I've been on multiple servers. LotC, Crystal Isles, Alaurin, etc. Lots and lots of roleplay.


    -Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is essentially forcing an action upon another character, without giving them time to react. You can't immediately hit a character and say exactly where and what damage it does.


    -Define Meta-gaming in your own words:

    Meta-gaming is using out of character information for your own personal gain in character. Just because you know ooc does not mean your character knows, they have to be told ic.


    -Define Role-Playing in your own words: Role-playing is creating a character and stepping in to their shoes to write a story with others. It's a pretty complicated process of creating the character, fleshing them out, etc.


    ----IC Info----
    -Character name: Calden Daermod


    -Character race: High Elf


    -Character gender: Male


    -Character age: 52


    -Character Occupation: Calden is a young carpenter, though he was apprenticed under a mage for a majority of his childhood. As well as this, he has experience in simple things such as collecting lumber.


    -Character description: With bright silver-blue hair, Calden stands at 6 feet, 4 inches, rather short for a High Elf. His skin is a light peachy color and is spotted with small, scattered freckles. He is rather young in appearance, appearing to be physically around nineteen or twenty years old. His eyes are a deep silver-blue color that matches his hair. Calden wears an outfit with a brown coat and a cloak over it. Occasionally, he wears a mask that resembles a fox or a cat, colored black and gold.


    -Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):


    Calden is a playful man, acting quite joyful around most. However, while retaining his childish joy, he is mature in almost all situations and stays calm under stress. He pays close attention to almost everything around him and seems to be on edge at nearly all times. However, he still manages to be playful and fun to be around. He's friendly and kind to almost everyone he sees, and does his best to sort out differences rather than not making a friend with someone who probably dislikes him.


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

    He cocked his head to the side with a calculating look, staring deep in to the eyes of the chicken near him. He was told to stay away from the farm animals, but they were so fascinating, so entrancing with their different colored feathers and the sounds they made. Creeping closer, Calden's eyes raised as the chicken's head turned to stare back at him with a cluck. He continued, even closer, before leaping at the poor animal.


    With a screech and a cluck, the chicken bounded away faster than Calden could ever catch up, headed back toward the group of chickens that pecked at the ground around nine feet away.


    Shaking his head, he collected his wits, dusting himself off and turning his head as a voice spoke nearby.


    "Calden, you know we tell you to stay away from the animals for a reason, and it is exactly that. Don't you understand that frightening them isn't nice? You're still considered a child to us, but you are older than you appear. You should know this by now," the voice spoke. It was attached to a tall, curvy woman with deep blonde hair and golden eyes. She stood much, much taller than Calden, and wore a flowing, beautiful red and white dress. Her weight was resting on her left leg, hip out, and her arms were folded with a sort of grace that Calden couldn't begin to understand.


    "I know that!" the young boy argued, "I was just trying to get a closer look!"


    The woman, with a deep and drawn out sigh, drew up her dress and started forward for Cal. As she leaned down, crouching in front of her son, she reached forward. The light haired boy flinched and turned his head away, expecting a knock upside the head. With gentle, slender fingers, his mother plucked a few feathers from his head with a soft smile.

    "I'll let these feathers and the dirt on your pants be your punishment in this situation. And you'll be washing those pants yourself, dear," she said. Her voice, to Calden, sounded like wind chimes in a cool summer breeze. "Now, go apologize to Richard for scaring his chickens, hmh? We'll return home together. I will wait here, Cal."


    With a protesting groan and a scowl, Calden stood and dusted himself off, before heading toward the small farmstead a ways ahead. Richard was an older human man with a scruffy beard and grey on the sides of his head. He was built like a bull, all muscle and gruff, but he was a kind-hearted man. Not only this, but he was the young boy's mentor. Calden had taken a liking toward the art of carpentry, watching Richad with wide, entranced eyes as he would size down pieces of wood to make a chair. The little boy called it magic. When the man would correct him, he would simply argue, and Richard would give him a smile.


    Richard had been teaching Calden in the ways of carpentry for some years now. He was like a father to him when he hadn't one, his father having been long gone by the time he was born. Cal was unsure just how long it had been, as time seemed to pass quickly for him. Each year Calden grew, he watched his mentor grow older. He watched his hair go grey in more than just the sides, watched the man grow a little more frail; but Richard never acknowledged it, until one day he sat the elf down, speaking to him in a soft, fatherly tone.


    "Calden, my boy." Even with his age, his voice was still a baritone in the elf's ears. "You are aware that humans and elves - we have different life spans- yes?"


    Cal nodded with furrowed brows. "Of course I know .. why wouldn't I? I mean - mother has reminded me almost every year."

    Richard nodded back at his apprentice. "Then you know that I will be long gone by the time that you grow old."

    "I .." Calden paused, putting a hand to his chin, "I've .. never really thought about it, sir. I mean, I've thought about it in passing- but never actively ..-"


    "I know, my boy. But you must understand, this is natural. You will miss me, and I will miss you .." he paused, jaw clenching, "but you must understand. This is something that must happen, you realize? Calden - I am ill. I do not know how much time I will have left, but I plan to teach you everything I know in the time that I have." As Calden's mouth opened to protest, Richard made a quiet shushing sound, "please. Listen to me, let me finish."


    Reluctantly Calden closed his mouth and glanced away as his master spoke. "I have no sons, no daughters. No one to carry out my legacy .. but I have you, Calden. You have been more like my son than anyone else, and I know that you, even without your father .. I know that you see me as your own parent."


    "I do, but ..-" he was cut off short once more with a shake of the human man's head. "You will be in my will, my boy. It is simple as that - but when I .. pass. You must keep going, you must continue my work. You must not stop carpentry. Do you understand?"


    A new found determination was bubbling in to the elf's throat. He gave a strangled sound, and stood up, nodding repeatedly. "Yes sir!" he said, voice raised. "I will do everything you ask, I'll be the best student you could ever have, sir!" He relaxed at the smile that graced his master's face.

    Richard died two months later. Calden was told that he passed peacefully in his sleep. The walk from the farmstead to his home in the trees was longer than ever the day after the funeral. There was an emptiness in his chest, a pang that held all of the emotions he did not dare to show. Sorrow, anger, fear. What would he do now? Sure, he had been taken under the wing of Vamir Endithas, an old mage. It took a week for him to decide, until he finally settled on a decision. He would take care of the farmstead for years until he finished his training under Vamir - after all, the farmstead was his now, along with everything in it. Richard had no family, no one close to him but Calden's own family. Many frowned upon it and were glad to see the human go, but Cal refused to leave the farmstead to rot. He would stay, and when the time came, he would go, leaving everything behind him.


    -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.


    With a deep, deep sigh, Calden rushes after the child, sprinting as fast as he can. "Wait!" he shouts, "gods dammit, just hold on a minute-!" he pauses, and groans as the child turns a corner, before heading after them once more. If he manages to catch up, he swoops the child up in his arms and plucks the coin purse from them, setting them back down. "You know, you could get in a lot of trouble for smoething like that," he sighs as he looks through the purse. "Next time, try lifting the purse a bit more lightly. Go after the rich-looking ones, hm? Doubt they'd miss the coin." He plucks half of the coins from inside his purse, handing it to the child and ruffling their hair. "You be careful now. If you need anything, you can find me in the market place."


    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.


    Calden rubs his cheek as he observes the trapped wolves, eyebrows furrowed. He did need the money, but ..


    With another pause he creeps forward, tenderly reaching down to undo the bear trap. "Just a moment," he says in a hushed, calm whisper, "it'll be alright." The mother wolf observes him with narrowed, cautious eyes, snarling when he gets close, but he continues otherwise. "I know. It hurts, I understand, but in order for me to free you, I need you to stay still." He was aware that the wolf likely could not understand him, but he had a hope in his chest that the wolf would understand his tone of voice and gentle grasp enough to understand that he did not mean any harm. With trembling fingertips he undoes the bear trap and rips off the sleeve of his coat, tying up the injury and stepping back to allow the mother and pups room.


    Extra notes (Optional, could include theme songs, pictures, etc.):

    Just a side note here, I know that the backstory seems a little short and only focuses on one situation, but this was the most important thing that happened in Calden's life. His life was generally spent in one place doing multiple things, as he had a pretty happy life and childhood, aside from one thing that will be introduced below in the magic application. I like to keep things a bit hidden, other than the absolutely most important things, so people can learn things about my character purely through roleplay.


    Also, picture of my skin:

    ______________________________

    -Magic Biography; Explain the reason you want your character to have magic through backstory application:

    A sick, painful crack ran up his arm, burning deep in to his hand. Blood dripped down the pale skin of the limb, streaming until it met with the deep brown of the wood beneath.


    "You indulge far too much in your so-called peace. You really think a mage with good intentions would come to a place like this?" the voice snarled, digging itself in to his head, burying itself and burrowing a hole in to his very soul. A tenseness filled the air with the man's words. Blood. So much blood. Why was there so much blood - where had it come from?


    Nothing felt right, nothing felt quite real, either. There was no life in the man's face- he was tall, pale, his expression seeming as if it was carved in to porcelain. The room was broken apart, furniture spread across the floor carelessly as if due to a simple wind storm. The space was filled with a deep, empty silence that stood apart from the glow of the fire burning in the rusted hearth.


    Calden wanted to yell. Wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, bare his teeth, rip the man's throat out with his fingers. He wanted to curse him, break his limbs one by one. He wanted to humiliate him and make him feel the pain that he felt. But no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how hard he tried, only one word left his pale, bloody lips.


    "Why?" he croaked. How odd. He didn't say that; at least he didn't mean to. He had planned to swear at him and yell at the top of his lungs at the man, his mentor, the one who had taught him everything he knew of magic, like he wanted to. But then again, it was all beginning to make sense. He finally understood why Vamir didn't teach him anything that could be used against him, didn't teach him anything that would have been useful in a fight against a powerful mage. He had played with his head, played with his mind, twisting him around his little finger, and Calden had never questioned it, not once. Cal never questioned it because he was so excited to learn, so excited to live up to the name that his father left behind. To be a good mage, to learn all of the secrets. That was why he had never questioned why he was learning simple alteration and elemental magic. Party tricks. That was all they were, and he had been fooled in to thinking that he could use it to help people.


    Calden could feel his hand going numb, kneeling to the ground. His mentor spoke, but the words were a muddled mess in his ears. All he could hear was the rush of blood, he could hear his very life draining from him. Could feel it.


    The first touch he felt from Vamir was like an explosion. It filled him with hot fire and hatred, searing his skin with pain. His head throbbed, his chest ached. His mentor wrapped something around his arm, speaking softly in to the elf's ear. "Now, now, my young student," he said, "I can't have you bleeding out on me. After all, how will you find me and live out my legacy once more if you're dead?"


    The chuckle that followed made him sick to his stomach. So that's what he wanted. A puppet - a game. He did all of this, ripped his home, his family, his mother away. For a simple game. Fine, Calden thought numbly. I'll play your game. I'll play your game, and I'll become stronger, until I can finally rip the breath from your lungs myself. Ah, yes .. that's what he needed. The tinge of hope, of satisfaction from the thought. Calden grasped at it as if he were pulling at strings, gripping the single line of thread and wrapping himself in it. He would become grander than his mentor, than the father that left him behind. He wouldn't seek revenge, oh no. He would show his mentor what a monster he could be.


    -Please give an example in your own words describing the limitations placed upon those who use magic:

    Magic, like any other system, has limitations. In order to get better at magic, it takes a very, very long amount of time and training. You must be taught how to use magic if you are lucky enough to be born with the ability. Even then, however, it takes years upon years to begin to build up your potential. The ability to learn magic and how much is affected by race and how long you have trained. Dark Elves are completely unable to learn magic. Even when you learn magic, you start very small and are unable to do most things. As previously stated, you must train hard and often to be able to even grasp your true potential. To use magic, you must have an artifact that can be used to channel your magic through, and even then, you must learn to use it and the tier of your artifact can affect your abilities, from weak artifacts to divine. Pushing yourself in magic can lead to serious injury or death. You also only start with one aspect.


    -Please give a description of the magic system in your own words:

    The magic system is complicated and much more different than many other servers. Magic on Saphriel requires the use of artifacts, objects that can be used to channel your magic through in order to cast what others would call "spells", though this is not the exactly correct word, because there are no spells or incantations on Saphriel. There are a set amount of aspects of magic that different races can know or learn. High Elves have the most potential, being able to learn four, and Dark Elves having the least, being unable to use magic at all (zero aspects). Humans are able to learn three, Dwarves and Ca'Liar are able to learn two, and Goblins and Orcs are able to learn one. Each artifact has a specific strength level (Weak, Feeble, Moderate, Medium, Strong, Powerful, Wondrous, or Divine). Each tier of strength is able to do different levels of magic. Artifacts, while having tiers, also have set things that they can do, such as elemental magic or alteration.


    -You are given a weak trinket of <blank>, you haven't had much practice with magic yet, but you will try your best. Describe some things you could/would do with this trinket:
    With a weak trinket of water, so to say, there would be a multitude of possibilities even for a weak trinket. Calden would experiment with the trinket every chance he gets, using it in different ways to affect the world around him. He would attempt to manipulate the water in rivers and ponds, then move on to slightly bigger things, like picking up a small amount of water and moving it somewhere else, experimenting to see if he could transport anything, for example a very small tadpole or a leaf in the water. Because he wouldn't have had much practice yet, he would have turned to his teacher in order to ensure that he wouldn't be attempting something that would strain himself too much or hurt himself.

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Assassins of the Moon (Now Excepting)
    Have you ever just .. wanted to go back in time and punch yourself right in the face? Because that is exactly how I'm feeling right now.
    Posted in: Clans
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    posted a message on The Last Dream
    Oh my ****ing god



    This is so awful



    Someone please burn it
    Posted in: Fan Art
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    posted a message on || The Crystal Isles || Dedicated RP Server | Fantasy | Medieval | Unique Lore & Concept | Beautiful Custom World | Greylist
    OOC-
    IGN: moon_stone

    Is English your first language?: Yep!

    Previous RP experience: On a scale of 1 - 5, about a 3.

    What is Meta: Metagaming is using information that you have gathered out of character to aid yourself in character.

    What is Power Gaming: Power Gaming is when you take complete control of a roleplay situating, deciding both what happens to your character, and what happens to the other person's character.

    Link to MCThread Forum page that contains your application: (Mandatory!)
    ----
    IC-
    Character name: Saelus Amniet

    Gender: Male

    Age: 23 Years

    Appearance: With a slim build and tall stature, Saelus stands at five feet eleven inches. His silky light brown hair is styled slightly pulled back. Saelus's eyes are dark blue, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He wears a dark blue undershirt with armor protecting his shoulders and armor protecting his knees, and brown trousers with boots, along with a belt wrapped around his waist. The belt holds his sword. Around his shoulder is a shoulder bag that contains various items.

    Show


    Personality: Saelus lives a strict and orderly lifestyle. He dislikes being alone, and often enjoys the company of others, but is likely not to get too close to them. Though he may appear cold to some people, he is truly a kind man. Sae is able to use a sword, but no other weapon. He was taught to be a healer, not a killer. He knows how to heal complex wounds, and would do well in a medical position. He does, unfortunately, have what we would now call PTSD (Post- Traumatic Stress Disorder) due to events in his past.

    Background Story:

    When the lights fell from the sky, everyone was in awe.

    Saelus and his sister, Katherine, had watched the lights fall with astonishment and natural curiosity, as it was with young children. The two were twins and were both the ripe age of nine. The other villagers had gathered outside of their homes. The strange, unfamiliar streaks of light drew whispers of confusion and wonder from the crowds, and yet a creeping fear sent shivers down their spines.

    "Sae," began Katherine, "what do you think those are?"

    "I don't know," replied Saelus. "But they're pretty!"

    His sister nodded in agreement, her eyes turning back toward the brightly lit sky. "Hey! Maybe we can go catch one more mother and father! Surely they'd like to have such pretty lights!"

    "Katherine, that sounds dangerous.." Sae frowned, shaking his head. "We really should stay."

    "Well, if you don't want to go, then don't, but I want to make mother and father happy. They always look so sad.."

    Sae chased after his sister the moment she took off running in the opposite direction, weaving her way through the crowd. He gently pushed people aside to make himself a path, murmuring "I'm sorry" and "Excuse me" along the way. When he couldn't find her, he began to panic, calling out her name at the top of his lungs. "Katherine!" Sae shouted, "Katherine come back, it's not safe!"

    "Calm down, I'm right here." Katherine made her way toward him. "I couldn't find any of the lights.. maybe they haven't hit the ground yet?"

    Saelus breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his twin. "No, maybe not. We should go back home before mother and father get worried."

    Moments after they both agreed to return home, the ground beneath their feet began shuddered and began to shake violently. Katherine fell to her knees with a startled shout. People screamed in terror, scrambling to escape to anywhere that could be deemed safe, anywhere where the ground was still and lights did not fall from the sky. Sae scrambled to his sister's side, holding her close as they waited for the explosions and shaking and panic to stop.

    When the ground beneath them ceased shaking, the siblings looked up at the destruction it had caused. Some houses had collapsed, leaving nothing but rubble behind. People re-gathered, calling their family member's names in hopes of finding them safe and sound. Some did.. some did not.

    Their attention turned to someone calling their names, a panicked voice that trembled with each shout. "Mother!" Katherine called back, "over here! We're over here!" Within moments, they were picked up in to two other people's arms. "Thank god your safe.." said their father. Four families were not reunited with their loved ones.



    Rumors of disease had started to spread a week and a half after the lights fell.

    "Mother, will we get sick, too?" Sae looked up from his small meal of bread and soup. It was the first time in weeks he got to spend lunch with both of his parents, as mother was constantly busy, his father teaching him what he could, too. Family meals were a rarity.

    Saelus's father and mother both shared a strange look, their faces saying something that neither of their children could understand. "No, Saeul, of course not. The bad lights are too far to reach us here," his mother smiled in a comforting way. The way someone would smile at a funeral. It was enough to ease their children's worries. A loud wailing noise outside startled the family, their mother and father rushing to see.

    "My baby!" cried a woman, "My child! Don't hurt her! Please, she's just a child!" The woman was being held back by a tall man, separated from a young girl who appeared to be at least seven. Despite her age and small figure, she seemed to be lashing out, having being tied with a rope by another villager. She didn't appear.. human. Her skin was pale, slightly transparent, and her behavior could be compared to that of a rabid animal.

    "Mother? What's going on? Why is she tied up?" Sae looked up at his mother and father.

    "Nothing, Saeul. Get back inside." His mother gently pulled their father back in to the home, closing the door and the blinds. "Cover your ears. Where is your sister?"

    "Katherine's still asleep. She said she wasn't feeling well," Sae answered. He watched his parents' expression turn grave. In confusion, he watched his father go to Katherine's room, come back, and whisper something to his mother.

    She turned to him completely and gasped, her hand going to her mouth. "No.. no, it's not possible! Not her.. not now. Amniet, please." Saeul was sent to bed early that night, told that everything would be alright. That Katherine was just not feeling well. That she would be better soon.. and for once,

    he knew that it was a lie.


    He never found out what truly became of his twin, his other half. Saeul was told that the illness had taken her but he silently wondered if that was true. It was unlikely that it was.

    After twelve of the nineteen village people "Went missing" over the course of a month, people stopped getting sick. It was a relief to those who had made it seemingly unaffected. That small, lucky group included Saeul and his parents. Katherine, however, was one of the missing. She was no longer a person, only a name on a list. A memory.

    At age fourteen, his father had worked as a doctor for five years, ever since Katherine's 'disappearence'. Sometimes, he would pull Sae aside and teach him how to clean wounds and sew them up, how to treat a broken bone, how to treat common illnesses. All these things, his father would tell him, will come in handy when they are needed. When his father was suspected f falling at the time he was sixteen, however, none of the knowledge he had gathered could help him get his father back.

    "Please, you can't do this! Let me try to help him! I'm a doctor, please!"

    Saeul watched in horror as his father was dragged to the center of the village he had lived in the entirety of his life. He watched the village people tie his weak father to a pole and gather sticks to put around it. "Is this what you have amounted to?! Killing those who appear weak to you?! He is not ill! No one has been ill for years that wasn't already!" He rushed to his father's aid, throwing the sticks away. "Father, please, say something, tell them you are still you.. please!" When he received no reply, he shook him.

    Slowly, his father's head lifted to stare in to his son's eyes. "Let me burn, my son. Let me burn," he whispered. Their eyes met as the sticks around them burst in to flames. His mother pulled Saeul away from the burning body, but nothing could stop the blood-curdling scream that Saeul let out as he watched the flames rise.

    The numbers of dead from the plague "riddings", as they called them, rose drastically after his father's burning. The village
    people's judgement grew harsher and harsher, burning those who were suspected of corruption, though it was clear that none of them were, in fact, corrupted. His mother, in a weakened state of malnutrition, was accused of the disease, and regardless of Sae's protests and pleas, burnt to death like all the others.

    He left the village later that week. The tyranny, the paranoia, the suspicions and burnings of the innocent. It was too much for him, for any one who was mentally sane, to handle. And so he gathered his things, those of the most importance: his father's sword, and mother's pendant, and set off on his horse.

    Four days in to his journey, he met a boy while fighting a horde of corrupted. After the fighting was over, he soon discovered that this boy's name was Christoph. He looked to be about his age, with blonde hair and brown eyes. Soon after agreeing to travel together, they became companions, searching for a safe haven among the hell that had become their world.

    "Saelus," Christoph once began as they were saddling up their horses, "You told me before that you don't feel comfortable with love. Why is that?"

    He hesitated. "When the people you love so dearly have the ability to take that love away.." Sae trailed off, glancing up at him, "..how could anyone live a comfortable life?"

    "I.. suppose you're right."

    Three months since that day.

    Blood.

    On the ground in pools, on the two of them. So much blood.

    "Christoph. Christoph, hang in there, please hang on. Keep your eyes open. Christoph, keep your eyes fixed on me!" Sae worked desperately to seal the gaping hole in his companion's chest. "You.. you idiot. Why the hell did you jump in front of me?! You knew you couldn't repel that corrupted!" He scolded him as he worked on sewing his chest back together.

    "Sae.. Saelus, it's useless, calm down.. Saelus listen to m-- I--" he choked on blood, turning his head and coughing it on to the ground. Christoph made a second attempt to speak, but only came gibberish.

    "Shh, Christoph.. I understand, it's alright.."

    "Sae, I lo.."

    "Shhh.." Saelus felt tears run down his own face, mixing with the blood. He wiped off Christoph's lips with his thumb, smiling down at him sadly. "I know." He leaned down, locking lips with his companion before the life left his body. He pulled away as he felt his heart cease to beat. "And I you, my dearest.. Christoph.." he trailed off, pulling his lifeless body close to him and burying his face in his shoulder as violent sobs racked through his body. "I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry.."

    Saelus gave Christoph a proper burial and set off for rumors of a new world, and a Queen who would save them all.

    He is.. doubtful.

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on || ♦ VILKAYA ♦ || DEDICATED RP SERVER | FANTASY | MAGIC | UNIQUE CONCEPT AND LORE | CUSTOM BEAUTIFUL WORLD | GREYLIST |
    OOC-
    IGN: (the one you use to log in): moon_stone
    Is English your first language?: Yes.
    Previous RP experience: About a four.
    ----
    IC-
    Character name: (Doctor) Damien Caladrius.

    Gender: Male.

    Age: Twenty- four.

    Appearance: Damien stands tall at five foot nine inches, with a thin build that is crucial for his agility. His hair is short, straight, and black. His eye is light blue-green, with a strip of brown due to partial heterochromia. A bandage remains wrapped over his right eye permanently, and is only removed to replace it with fresh bandages. His skin is fairly pale due to the time he spends treating his patients indoors, but is slightly tanned from his travels. He wears a blue and light grey collared tailcoat and a white and grey vest with a purple ribbon adorned with a dark amethyst stone. His pants are a very, nearly black dark purple, with grey light-weight boots.

    (I suck at descriptions and haven't finished the skin yet, so here's a drawing for now: )


    Personality: Damien is calm, kind, friendly, and outgoing. He enjoys long conversations and small talk, and is easy to befriend, but he is careful with who it is that he trusts. He is so kind usually that he will appear threatening even though calm when confronting someone. He strongly dislikes rude people and will gladly remind them to watch what they do and say., and will fight if deemed necessary. He remains calm at all times, never breaking it. Damien enjoys making sarcastic or taunting remarks when fighting.

    Strengths: Taught by his butler, he is an excellent fighter with a sword and throwing knives. Damien prefers to use throwing knives, as they allow him to use his flexibility and speed to his advantage, and it makes it easier to block or dodge. He is strong-willed and hopeful, usually optimistic, and a great decision maker if he has the right mindset. He can also deceive those he wishes to, proving that he is not completely "good".

    Weaknesses/ Flaws: Though rarely, he can lose his calmness and will panic. He has a history of psychotic episodes, in which he will have very aggressive behavior. Due to his skinniness and lack of muscle (at least compared to many other fighters), he can not easily attack opponents head-on, nor would he be able to do anything but be a doctor. Damien can get attached far too much, and if those he cares about are in danger or are being attacked, he will show clear signs of concern, and can sometimes make rash decisions in the heat of the moment. He has triggers which will either trigger a panic attack or a psychotic episodes, and will subtly drop hints to others to not bring said things up.

    Background Story:

    You open your eyes to the slow rocking of the ship, laying on the hard ground. You are inside the boat with a coat on top of you as a blanket, and another under your head as a pillow

    "Ah. You are finally awake," a low-toned, hushed voice speaks from near a window. The source comes in to view to reveal a fancily dressed man. "You were asleep for quite some time. How are you feeling?" You open your dry mouth to speak, but find no words. The man leans back against a wall, smiling at you, as if waiting for an answer though he seems to know it will not come. "I understand. Do not worry," his voice is soft as he pushes himself off of the wall to sit on the small chair next to the bed, pausing before continuing, "From your expression, I can see that you do not remember a thing.. ah. But, it does not matter. You fell overboard, and hit your head. You inhaled some salt water so that is why speech is currently difficult," the man raises a finger and gestures to the bandages lining your head.

    You blink curiously at him, and he seems to understand what you are thinking though no words have been spoken. "Oh, rude of me." Momentarily, he stands and places one hand over his heart, and the other behind his back, bowing swiftly. "My name is Doctor Damien Caladrius. I am a physician," The man, Damien, straightens up and returns his arms to his sides. He returned to the seat once more. "You are welcome to rest, you will need it in order for your head to heal properly." Without hesitation you gladly accepted his offer, closing your eyes.

    For quite some time you lay like that, sometimes hearing Damien open the door and speak softly to someone, or the faint clinking of glass against eachother, like jars. You open your eyes when you realize you cannot sleep. "Having trouble sleeping? I understand, the rocking of this boat can make it quite difficult. I've had multiple people here that needed help with sea sickness." He was back at your side. You seemed to be his only patient at the moment. "Would you like me to tell you a story, my friend?" You nod and he begins.

    He faced the ceiling as the words rolled off of his tongue like silk. "Once upon a time, a little boy was born in a small town in the land of Fairborne, where flowers grew like weeds and the air smelled of bread. " Damien closes his eyes and continues after a small pause. "This boy was born to a noble, rich family, one of many in said town. His mother was a tailor, making dresses and suits and the like. She even made clothes for her son. His father, on the other hand, was the town's physician." He now hunched forward, leaning his chin on his hands as he spoke, "As the boy grew up, his parents often were not there. Many people required clothes, and many others were constantly ill. The boy understood and bared no hatred toward them. Instead, he was raised by his butler, Ether, and he was glad. Ether was a good guardian. When the little boy grew older and older, he decided, after being taught by his father the ways of medicine, his butler the ways of fighting, and by his mother, the way of sewing, that he would leave home to make a new life for himself. They were glad that he decided such a thing on his own."

    "During his travels, he stopped at a tavern in a town near his destination. There he met an amazing young man, and they fell in love at first sight. That was when, the boy now a man decided, he would spend the rest of his life with that man. The young couple arrived at their destination after a week of travelling, and were soon married. Years later him and his husband adopted their first child who they named Iiona. She was a beautiful little girl, with dark black hair just like his, and blue eyes. They loved her so much. Iiona was always happy, always smiling, and when the man now a doctor saw her he always smiled too. They adopted a second child years later, named Richard. You see, the doctor was always so busy, just like his father had been. He hardly had time to be with his family. Every day was work, work, work. One day the man went to the other town to retrieve an order of medicine that had not been brought to him."

    He takes a deep breath and clears his throat. It obviously pains him to continue. "When he returned, he could no longer call it home. The town had been, according to the survivors, attacked and raided by slave traders. His entire family had been captured, and yet only one tear did he shed. Inside he could feel himself crumbling, falling, and yet he could not bring himself to mourn. Without word he packed his things and moved on. Months of travelling and word of new lands brought him to the docks, where he boarded a ship and sailed away from his past.." The rest of the words were muffled to you as you slowly drifted to sleep. The only words you could make out were "Sleep well."


    (For some reason this has the weird black background and I can't get rid of it, so.)
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Looking for an ACTUAL RP Server. And a bit of a Rant.
    Quote from Blacklands

    -Snipsnip-


    I'd be greatly interested in helping with something such as that.
    Posted in: Server Recruitment
  • 0

    posted a message on The Fallen Kingdoms of Avalon: A Game of Thrones/A Clash of Kings
    Name (ign name) : moon_stone

    Character Name : Nikolas S'ouehl (Si-ooh-el)

    Age : 19

    Gender : Male

    Race (Human/Vampire/Werewolf) : Vampire

    Bio (must be a decent size no one line bios please):

    "Miss, it's a boy!" The maid said excitedly, cradling the newborn baby in her arms.

    She looked up at the maid, exhausted, holding her husband's hand tightly. "What shall you name him, miss?" The maid inquired.

    The woman looked up at her husband, smiling and squeezing his hand tightly, "Nikolas.. we'll name him Nikolas."


    "Nikolas, have you been studying?" Nikolas' mother peered over his shoulder and smiled softly. "Of course, mother," he looked up at her, nodding and looking down at his book once more. "Good. Considering you have been working so much, please, come sit with me in the garden." "Of course, mother."

    She sat down on the bench, gently patting the empty space next to her, "Take a seat." Nikolas did as he told, a bewildered expression on his face. "Mother, may I ask what this is about?" His mother took his hand and smiled, coughing softly.

    "Now.. your father, I am sure, has told you of my condition?" Nikolas nodded again. "I am afraid that I do not have much time remaining. When I do pass, I need you to do something for me.." He opened his mouth in protest but she quickly shushed him. "Nikolas, my son, I need you to listen to me. You must leave, far from here. Your father is.. he has... he is different, now. You must. Promise me you will?" He looked at her, his eyes wide, and nodded.

    Two months later his family was attacked during a raid by a large group of vampires. His parents were murdered and he was bitten, left to fend for himself by his attackers. He crawled to the woods and was saved by a small group of humans. They raised him to be who he was and he left home when he was old enough.




    Did you read all the rules/Ranks/ If so tell me one line from the rules: No hate speech.

    What is metagaming/powergaming? : Metagaming is when you use out of character information in game. Powergaming is not giving the other a chance to react, like killing a character immediately in a roleplay fight.

    Who's word is final in all decisions? : The Owners, and the Staff.

    What is an rp'er?: A roleplayer is someone who steps in to the shoes of a character to play a role and creator a story with others.

    How much experience do you have with Roleplaying? (Can be anything) : I've been on multiple roleplay servers, and I do a lot of text roleplay.

    Skin (a picture or link to your skin that you plan to use on the server):
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Angels and Demons [NOW ACCEPTING!]
    Holy ­ this is old. Burn it burn it burn it.
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 0

    posted a message on Year 2065: Post Apocalyptic Super Duper Serious RP [1.5.2] [24/7] [Essentials] [Whitelist] [Bukkit]
    Out of Character

    Minecraft account name: moon_stone

    Country of residence and time zone: United States, Eastern

    Define role playing in your own words, do you have any past role playing experiences?: Role Playing is stepping in to someone else's/ a character's shoes and creating a story with other people.

    What is your reason for applying to this server?: I've been looking for a server, this one seems interesting.

    Have you been banned before, if so why?: I have, but I am afraid I do not remember why.

    Do you agree with our rules, how about the lore?: Yes.

    Will you use the server's official texture pack?: Of course.

    Define Powergaming in your own words, example: I am not the best at defining it, but I do have an example: 'Bob killed John' without giving a chance for self defense.

    Define Metagaming in your own words, example: It is when you give someone OOC information and they use it IC. Example: You told your friend about a vault you have full of goodies and that lot, and your friend goes there IC and uses the password you told them, as if they magically knew it.

    In Character

    Character name: Camille Lancaster

    Your character's story so far: She was born shortly after the moon was split in to bits and the asteroids fell like rain. Her parents had both died long ago, when she was five, from radiation. Her eyes were affected, making her nearly blind. She was raised by her brother, Alfred, who did his best to teach Camille everything he knew about the land and his skills. They traveled often. She grew to be fast and strong, so she could help her brother. But Alfred soon was affected by the radiation, and passed away while she sat at his bed side. She was only thirteen at the time. Camille, heartbroken, was forced to leave the sight as the radiation was becoming far too much for anyone to survive in. She wandered the wastelands, scavenging for food and whatnot, anything that could inrease her chances of survival. When she was sixteen, she came across a young boy, an orphan, named Zack, and raised the child. He was taken from her a year later, by bandits. Camille currently wanders the lands, looking for the boy that she raised as her own son.

    Does or did your character have any companions or family?: She used to travel with her brother, but he fell ill and passed away.

    How old is your character?: 19

    Describe what your character looks like, any distinctive physical features?: Camille has bright, natural orange hair that stops at her shoulders. She has bright, lively blue eyes. She stands tall, and is slim. She has little muscle, as she is a fast runner.

    How does your character act?: Camille is energetic, and does her best to stay positive. Not a lot can ruin her mood.

    Character's occupation: Nothing. She has a difficult time being able to feed herself.

    Does your character have an education? (Read or write): Alfred taught her what he could about both, and she got quite good.

    Any special skills that your character has, nothing unbalanced: She is strong, and extremely fast and agile.

    Does your character hate or fear anything?: She fears, and hates spiders, and oblivion.

    Describe an example of your character in great suffering and pain (RP, and Long):

    Home. It had always been just a word to her. A word that did not make sense, a word that did not fully exist in her mind. Her home had always been with her older brother Alfred. But now that he was ill, she hadn't any idea what she would do. There wasn't a doctor for miles... and she could not leave him.

    "It's funny, Cami. I was always the one taking care of you," Alfred smiled over at her. He was so pale, his hair had already started to grey from the stress and hard work, his lips were blue. The sickly pale boy in front of her was nothing like her older brother, and yet, he was.

    "It's time to return the favor, that's all," she replied, holding his hand.

    "Even after all of this, you're all grown up. Would you kindly tell me if I did a good job, sis?"

    "You did, Alfie."

    "...I'm sorry," Alfred frowned.

    "Don't start apologizing again," Camille tried her best to smile.

    "No, I really mean it." He said. She could tell that he was already starting to pass out again.

    "C'mon," she lightly slapped his cheek, "stay with me, here. Just a little longer, the doctor is on his way. Please, Alfie. Don't sleep yet."

    "Sorry, sis, I'm tired.. Really, really tired.." he smiled, "take care, hun." Alfred closed his eyes.

    "Alfie, come on." Camille said, her smile fading. She slapped his cheek again, "Alfie, come on. Wake up.. please wake up." And yet, he didn't wake. She sat there as the pain and realization hit her like a hurricane. Tears welled up, and fell. "Alfred Lancaster, wake up, god dammit!" She shouted, "Don't just sit there, answer me!" There couldn't have been any more air in the world at the time, and yet, she felt as if she was suffocating.

    Anything else to add?: Eeeenope.

    Provide an image of your character's skin: http://s799.beta.pho...html?sort=3&o=0
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Year 2065: Post Apocalyptic Super Duper Serious RP [1.5.2] [24/7] [Essentials] [Whitelist] [Bukkit]
    Quote from JoeShmoy

    Cody was supposed to continue this review process, it seems he hasn't done it so I've adopted it.


    Ah.. well, thank you, but do you mind giving me some.. advice?
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Year 2065: Post Apocalyptic Super Duper Serious RP [1.5.2] [24/7] [Essentials] [Whitelist] [Bukkit]
    If I was denied for one thing, why wasn't I told of the other right on the bat? This is stressful.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Year 2065: Post Apocalyptic Super Duper Serious RP [1.5.2] [24/7] [Essentials] [Whitelist] [Bukkit]
    It makes me sad to see other people's applications being accepted/denied and mine's just there like

    'hey'



    Quote from Richaro

    -Roar-


    7 foot tall thing yeah.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Year 2065: Post Apocalyptic Super Duper Serious RP [1.5.2] [24/7] [Essentials] [Whitelist] [Bukkit]
    Quote from Richaro

    -Screeches like a banshee


    I Alice

    You Gish

    right
    Posted in: PC Servers
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