AmbrosiaXIII
Villager
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Skookumchuk.
2. Where is your last approved Whitelist Application?
[Last application.]
3. Have you re-read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides again?
I have.
4. Tell us about yourself!
I wish there was more to tell! Not much has changed in my life that's worth mentioning. Perhaps working more and finding new music to listen to?
About Your Character!
Character Name: Frey Varyn
Age: Sixteen
Race: Human - Anhalder
Appearance: Inherently of a large stature, the Varyn boy stands at 6'1", though being in the throes of adolescence his frame might still stack a few inches higher. His skin is fair, coupled by coarse dirty blonde locks and near midnight blue irises. Frey is often adorned in a mute colored gambeson and lackluster jackboots.
Written Test:
The salt-scented air of the Talon Islands was always comforting to young Frey. Since his eighth birthday, following the liberation of Oren, he had called the rough shoals home. His father Richard’s longhouse could be seen from the boughs of Meermotte, whose lights glittered like stars even in the torrential storms of the northern sea. Summers came and went, spent upon the deck of whaling boats beside the remnants of the Ashen Truth- Prinz Reyne, whom had become something of an Uncle to the boy, and Lothaire of the same importance with the harrowing tales of vile creatures both in the depths of the ocean or stalking poor villages across Gottland. There were less memorable members of their retinue, who spent recent years off the coast of Drachenhort battling Hawklight marauders and piracy aboard great frigates. He found their tirades on any subject profound, be they about the pantheon or the geopolitical affairs of Kaltstaat.
Physique had always been important to young Frey, and the values instilled in him by his father were strict. Regimented calisthenics were punctual every morning at sunrise, followed by a hearty breakfast of salted fish and bread freshly yielded from the toiling serfs on Drachenhort. Noon saw general lessons in hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, and horse riding. The Anhalder felt drawn to the drink, and didn’t take well to the bucking stallion as opposed to the rocking of the waves. After a lunch of boiled eggs paired with gruelish oatmeal, lessons in Handelsprache and Rede usually carried on to dinner. Their supper varied, depending upon whether a host of Richard’s closest friends would throw grandiose soiree’s in their hall, or they would cross the straits and spend the evening in Lowenfalke to discuss matters of the realm. It felt as if he had a great weight to shoulder in the coming years, but he hoped all that his father did in his interest would one day prepare him to face such trials.
By the summer of his sixteenth birthday, Frey had begun to come to terms with what the true weight behind his House name meant. The boy had done well to learn the basics of the gentry, from wielding a longsword to humbling himself and speaking with care before royalty. No matter the cost, he felt that an iron will had been bestowed upon him, to make something of himself in this life. Only time in the tumultuous world of Altera would tell.
Skookumchuk.
2. Where is your last approved Whitelist Application?
[Last application.]
3. Have you re-read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides again?
I have.
4. Tell us about yourself!
I wish there was more to tell! Not much has changed in my life that's worth mentioning. Perhaps working more and finding new music to listen to?
About Your Character!
Character Name: Frey Varyn
Age: Sixteen
Race: Human - Anhalder
Appearance: Inherently of a large stature, the Varyn boy stands at 6'1", though being in the throes of adolescence his frame might still stack a few inches higher. His skin is fair, coupled by coarse dirty blonde locks and near midnight blue irises. Frey is often adorned in a mute colored gambeson and lackluster jackboots.
Written Test:
The salt-scented air of the Talon Islands was always comforting to young Frey. Since his eighth birthday, following the liberation of Oren, he had called the rough shoals home. His father Richard’s longhouse could be seen from the boughs of Meermotte, whose lights glittered like stars even in the torrential storms of the northern sea. Summers came and went, spent upon the deck of whaling boats beside the remnants of the Ashen Truth- Prinz Reyne, whom had become something of an Uncle to the boy, and Lothaire of the same importance with the harrowing tales of vile creatures both in the depths of the ocean or stalking poor villages across Gottland. There were less memorable members of their retinue, who spent recent years off the coast of Drachenhort battling Hawklight marauders and piracy aboard great frigates. He found their tirades on any subject profound, be they about the pantheon or the geopolitical affairs of Kaltstaat.
Physique had always been important to young Frey, and the values instilled in him by his father were strict. Regimented calisthenics were punctual every morning at sunrise, followed by a hearty breakfast of salted fish and bread freshly yielded from the toiling serfs on Drachenhort. Noon saw general lessons in hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, and horse riding. The Anhalder felt drawn to the drink, and didn’t take well to the bucking stallion as opposed to the rocking of the waves. After a lunch of boiled eggs paired with gruelish oatmeal, lessons in Handelsprache and Rede usually carried on to dinner. Their supper varied, depending upon whether a host of Richard’s closest friends would throw grandiose soiree’s in their hall, or they would cross the straits and spend the evening in Lowenfalke to discuss matters of the realm. It felt as if he had a great weight to shoulder in the coming years, but he hoped all that his father did in his interest would one day prepare him to face such trials.
By the summer of his sixteenth birthday, Frey had begun to come to terms with what the true weight behind his House name meant. The boy had done well to learn the basics of the gentry, from wielding a longsword to humbling himself and speaking with care before royalty. No matter the cost, he felt that an iron will had been bestowed upon him, to make something of himself in this life. Only time in the tumultuous world of Altera would tell.
