_chewsday's Whitelist Application [Approved - IceandFire]

[_chewsday]

_chewsday's Whitelist App: ________________________________________ {Introduction Section} Minecraft Username: _chewsday Age: 20 Country & Timezone: EST Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes Define Metagaming & Powergaming?: Metagaming and Powergaming are tactics used to inform a character with the writer's knowledge in a scenario where the character would have no way of knowing these things, whether simply to provide their character with more power, or to pursue specifically the highest rank or "goal" in the game, as well as using outside influence over someone else's character and making them perform actions to ones own benefit rather than for the joy and fun of the roleplay. Metagaming and powergaming can really take you out of the immersion, especially considering it creates an unavoidable plothole in any roleplay as well as creating a negative atmosphere for other roleplayers. Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No Tell us about yourself!: My name is Linds! I'm 20 years old, living on the east coast of the US. I've been playing minecraft for 10+ years now and I don't think I'll ever get bored of it I enjoy other games, mostly on steam, and I'm working on a game myself. I'm an artist and I love to build beautiful buildings in game! I have a passion for animals aswell, in and out of minecraft Referral: Planet Minecraft ________________________________________ {Character Section} Character Name: A'pasha Age: 18 Race: Elf (silver/moor halfling) Appearance: A'pasha stands impressively slender, her thinness exaggerated by her elven height and the grey hue of her skin, freckled and scarred by a lowly upbringing. Her hair is a thick, white mane laying down the line of her back to the thin of her waist. Her eyes are sharp and piercing, shining with a certain humility like dusty quartz against a winter sky. Her typical, Southern Sangrian wear consists of a pale, cedar colored tunic, wrapped at the waist by a muted olive green belt and draped over with a coat of rabbit furs that gleam like wheat fields under the Sangrian Port's sun. (Optional) Picture of the Skin: Attach on the thread Written Test (Min: 400 words): Velvet blue skin rolled between her sore fingers, lazily pressing out a dewdrop of a coveted purple hue: every second ticking while her ripened metronome counted their passing. The blueberry had begun to stain her fingers now, it’s skin falling aged upon its bruising flesh, but the age seemed comforting upon her fingertips, reminding her of the ancient faces of her people. Her people. Casting a shaded, cool gaze down at the overripe fruit, A’pasha parted her lips in a frozen sigh. Her body felt too stiff in every knobby joint, incapable of feeling the relaxation of extending out as noble pines or swaying willows do. “People like me..” she corrected herself in a hoarse whisper, breath crumbling into bits of sand that fell into her lap like an hourglass counting her time left. The cramped walls around her began to feel too warm, like flesh- beating. A distant heart pushing blood might have been pounding, forcing them tighter around me as the womb crushes one out and out, merciless from before the very beginning. And then “What?” croaked a hardly distant whisper, a familiar breath and tone. Silver-coin bright skin shone at her; like gnashing wolves’ teeth, his presence and visage held something that would always keep her beneath him, and any who shared it. “You’re not making sense...” he sorrowfully swung his head, dismissing his questions and casting his bright gaze to his lap. A’pasha kept her words to herself rather than sharing with her fellow Silver Elf, although their fellowship ended at their partially shared heritage. Every slight flaw that caught under the streaks of light piercing through cracks in the wooden crate proved the distance between their roles. Each freckle and stray scar, sunspot and scab: a flaw, scratch and scuff within something that once held the potential to be precious. Reaching up plum-stained fingertips, she cleared away the papery flakes of dirt and old blood that clung to the flaws in her skin: jagged stripe of white lightning down her left cheek, from the outer corner of her eye. People like me. The stain of her birth had left her with a rather unlucky roll of dice: born of cultures that opposed each other, skin painted with too many flaws to beckon the acceptance of the Silver Elves, the Moorish tint to her complexion and curved-blade features would give her hope only among other outcasts. Outcast. The word had rolled from the Silver Elf’s lips like a long-told prophecy, cursing the land where she stepped and staining the few joys of her life. You are an outcast. His hands had thrown her down into the dirt, grime pulling at her hair and tattered clothes. He hadn’t even noticed the men on the mud carved shoreline, or heard their footsteps as they preyed upon two helpless sets of hands, ready for slaving in lands far from home. Lurching suddenly, A’pasha fell against the wall, pinning the Silver Elf who yelped in protest. Stinging droplets of fire washed over A’pasha’s wounds, salty water filling the space at their heels as they stumbled to get off of one another. She quickly found regret after hastily trying to wipe away the water, only salting her skin further as another lurch brought the elves’ in their crate crashing down upon unknown land. A’pasha caught a glimpse of the whole world at once: tapestry of blue threaded with ivory clouds, terracotta towers topped with flags dancing like women of the night, and chalky mudwalls adorned with crowns of ivy. This was not the icy, hostile north she had grown to find refuge in, hiding beneath the cool earth as the snow-hare. “Shit-” cursed the Silver Elf, groaning next to her as he struggled to hurry to his feet. A’pasha swung her head around, vision blurring as the slight rumble of boots on the dock grew closer to the two. Armed men further splintered the broken wood beneath them, snapping like birds’ bones. One particular crunch beneath boots echoed in A’pasha’s skull: run, Pasha, this moment will not last forever. Visions of a haunted past like flocks of birds swarmed her as she sprouted up and ran on light feet, abandoning the Silver Elf who had not been so quick- or so scared. A’pasha felt warm blood and cool salt water trickling down her limbs, spotting the sandy earth with her presence. The heat of the southern sun clung to her body, her skin slick with a sheen of sweat. A’pasha, a glistening, silver fish scale, leapt and bound over stone and sand into the sparse outskirts of the seaport town, vanishing into the stream of it’s people like a minnow in the current.

 

[IceandFire]

Fantastic App, I am happy to approve this but I just wanted to let you know that for children of two different types of Elves, or Human - the child/character must inherit the traits of one of the parents, but not both. So, it A'pasha would either be a Moor Elf, or a Silver Elf.

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