Tossing my app in here to save a bit of room on the page. Looking forward to hearing back from you.
-Minecraft IGN: Melavia
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): Melavia_142
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example? I do some more physical larping with Amtgard where character dev and such isn’t nearly as important so while I don’t have a large amount of experience, I do have some practice holding character despite odd or unexpected twists.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Forcing your will onto others in such a way that they cannot avoid your intentions without severely breaking character or breaking character yourself in order to execute an impossible or at least highly improbable feat.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Using knowledge or skills that your character would not possess in order to further your goals.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Immersing yourself in the mind of a character for a time. You try to think and speak as they would using their experiences instead of your own to shape your decisions and actions.
-Character name: Creslin
-Character race: Half-Elf
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 37
-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. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Farmer
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Creslin, short by human standards, stands at five foot three inches. His skin is an ashen grey much like his mother’s; however where her eyes were a rose pink, his are a dark maroon nearly blending with his pupils. With strong cheekbones, off-white hair hanging just below his shoulders and a strong sinewy build, there is little enough to distinguish him from a full elf. He prefers wearing light grey linen pants and a brown tunic covered by his heavy woolen cloak if the weather demands.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
While he doesn’t put much effort towards avoiding conversation, Creslin is a loner by nature and will not go out of his way to make anybody’s acquaintance. He has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and would rather observe those around him, always trying to fade to the background. His patience reaches far beyond the limits of most and he almost never forgets a face. When feeling nervous or unconfident Creslin has a habit of running his hands through his hair, an unconscious tic he has no memory of picking up. The crowds of the city grate against his mind so when he has the opportunity he escapes to the forest. He feels at ease surrounded by the trees; the tranquility found under the canopy easing his mind and calming his frayed nerves.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Creslin grew up in a small farming village near the south-western boundaries of the Dark Forest. Born to a dark elf mother and human father he was considered an outcast from both societies. The other children would ridicule him because of his ears and dark complexion. Without so much as a memory of his mother and only vague stories from his father, he convinced himself that those children were right so he did his best to avoid their attention whenever possible. This was quite the task in a village of only a handful of families made ever more difficult by his father’s insistence that he find his place in a village where he was shunned.
Word of the progress of the pact was slow to reach his sleepy village and when it finally did arrive it was by chance only. In desperation, a messenger thought to cut through the Dark Forest in order to cut time from his journey. When he finally escaped the depths of the forest and stumbled across the collection of cottages he was ecstatic with hopes for rations and a replacement mount and approached the village.
With news of a quickly approaching army the village was in an uproar as families gathered what they could carry. Creslin was bewildered by the sudden commotion and rushed back to the modest cottage he and his father shared. As he walks in he hears, “Good. You’re back. Take this, grab your extra pair of boots and as much of the hard bread as you can carry. No questions. Just do it.” Creslin jumps to obey sensing the tension in his father’s voice. Within a few hours a group of ragtag villagers and a lone ox-cart were trudging after the cloud of dust raised by the mount of the exhausted messenger.
On their journey they are forced off the road by a mass of soldiers headed in the opposite direction. With dreams of grandeur, power and riches away from those that refused to accept him and regrets for abandoning his father; Creslin stole away from the caravan hoping to blend in with the horde of followers but the reality of war was more terrible than he could have imagined.
Without any weapons training and no useful skills beyond that of gathering small bits of food that wasn’t trampled or frightened away, Creslin soon found that a useless mouth was not welcome among an army, much less a halfling. The stories he heard of war were wrong. There were no knights in flawless armor, crude men filled his vision and the closest he saw to knights were garbed in crude and rusted plate but there was no going back. He was out of food and to catch back up to his father and the others before he starved would be just short of a miracle.
It promised to be another dreary day but he had heard that they would be exiting the forest any day now but instead of being joyous, everybody was on edge for some reason. It was approaching dusk and oddly enough some warriors stopped and were allowing the camp followers ahead of them. He learned why about an hour later. A scream of agony sounded from behind along with shouts of “Arrows” and “Ambush.” Streams of fire and lightning coursed from the right and slammed into those unlucky enough to be in its path. Creslin’s eyes darted to the right where he could see several hulking figures between the trees. A shimmering light appeared between the path and the trees and the streams of magic power stopped and rebounded weakly into the forest. The smell of roasting flesh and the screams of men and women overwhelmed him but Creslin was horrified and unable to move. Those closest to him began to turn and run, and as the flow of bodies increased the light began to flicker. A warrior bowled him over and Creslin hit the ground with a shock, slicing his hand on an abandoned blade. He felt a jerk on the back of his tunic and desperately grabs for the steel beneath his hand. A second jerk and he is lifted off the ground slightly and dragged a couple feet. He hits the ground hard and on the third attempt manages to get his feet under him. Terrified, Creslin began to run with the crowd, shoving his way through when stuck behind anybody moving at slower than a sprint.
Beyond exhaustion and without direction the throng of people finally begins to slow. People slump to the ground, too tired to care what will become of them, Creslin among them. When he recovered he finally took a survey of the group around him. It felt as if he was looking at a group of bodies and the memories came rushing back to him. The smell of burning flesh and the terrible screams. A sharp pain in his left hand dragged him back to the present and he yelped in pain. He looked down astonished and his mind jumped back to the battle again, this time as he hit the ground. He remembered pain and a blade but what he carried was far from any weapon he had ever seen. It was a small metallic insignia featuring a rather poor representation of the sun. He had almost traded his life for a shoddy piece of jewelry. He felt rage building up but suppressed it as he had when tormented as a child. There was no place now for anger and maybe he could trade it for food if somehow they survived the flight to safety.
They called the skirmish a victory but the losses were terrible and the trip back was a daze. Little water and less food left everybody exhausted and some of those who survived the attack never made it through the long road to Barkamsted. Those that made the journey had long since abandoned most of their belongings either in the flight from the battle or on the road. They were accepted into Barkamsted as refugees. Creslin entered the city with nothing but the clothes on his back and the bag containing his cloak and the spare boots his father had insisted he bring. Not wanting to feel as he did when following the warband and without the land or the resources to use his knowledge of plants and crops, he decided to work his way to the docks and try to find a fisherman or crew that would be willing to take him on.
For years Creslin worked on a fishing boat but he was never at home at sea and always kept an ear open for opportunities beyond the walls of the city. When the alliance finally broke through the warriors of the pact Creslin was overjoyed see the land outside the walls for the first time in years however he quickly realizes that the battles are far from over. Several more years pass and opportunities arise in the city of Falkvard. Creslin hears that the lands around Falkvard are flat and rich. While he has long surrendered to the fact that his father is lost to him, Creslin longs to return to the simple life of a farmer, hoping to honor his memory and with hopes that the memories of the horrors he has seen will fade from his mind.
-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.
Creslin glances after the urchin chuckling. The child would be disappointed when he finally stopped to check his prize. All he had come to the markets for was a new blade for his hoe. Between his purchase and a couple of hard rolls to get him home he had nearly emptied his purse, leaving about enough for a hot meal at a cheap tavern before he went on his way. A flicker of irritation passed through him as he thought of the meal that he had just been relieved of but the child likely needed it far worse. He shrugs as he pushes his way east shooting one last glance at the Silver Spoon as he reaches the road leading back home.
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.
Creslin hears the sound of whimpering off to the left of the path he is following. While tempted to continue on, the pitiful whining would plant itself in his conscious for days and that was the last thing he needed right now so he followed his ears through the trees. As he steps into a small clearing the whining turns to a low growl. There in front of him is a wolf, its right forepaw crushed in a trap, its eyes fixed intently on him. His eyes shoot around the clearing fearing a second wolf as his hand drops to the dagger he keeps at his hip. This could very well be one of the beasts that has been harassing his livestock. Yet for all the fight left in her Creslin could see no way the wolf would survive long with a wound such as she had sustained.
The reason for her threats became clear as he saw a small shape moving just behind the wolf. It was then that he realized his situation. The hunters in the area were brutal if they thought they had been wronged and a wolf pelt was quite the prize. Whoever had set that trap would be back to check it, if not soon then within a week surely and he had no experience dealing with a more than simple snares. He ran his hand through his hair. There was no way he was going to be able to reset the trap even if he was able to free the wolf without getting maimed. All he could do was offer the wolf mercy.
He begins to circle around the wolf and she yelps as she turns to keep him in her gaze. He hears a voice carry from the trees to his left. “Hah! Told you this was a good spot.” Creslin panics and runs. He only manages a few paces before his foot catches on a root. As he hits the ground he hears a high pitched yelp as a wolf pup turns and latches onto his glove. He feels pricks as its teeth break through the old leather. He shoves himself back to his feet and curses his luck under his breath as he grabs the pup and slips off in the direction of the path.