duskflower
Villager
duskflower
1. What is your Minecraft username?
duskflower
2. How old are you?
I don't like to make my age public on the internet to avoid attention from creeps, but rest assured I'm well above the minimum age.
3. What country are you from? What is your timezone?
United States, Mountain Time.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
I have.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
I would define metagaming as allowing your character to know information they have not discovered naturally (in the context of roleplay). Specifically, your character knowing or acting on things you've learned OOC (such as through the forums or Discord). Powergaming is when you force something on another person's character without the other player allowing it.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Tell us about yourself! Do you have any examples of your work?
I'm a writer, specifically of novels. I could talk about the nitty-gritty of story structure or theme or character archetypes all day! I also love to read – some of my favorite authors include Tolkien, C.S Lewis and G.K. Chesterton. I've roleplayed on and off for about seven years and love the opportunity it offers to experiment with character development and voice in such a collaborative setting.
8. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I found your server through a Google search for medieval fantasy Minecraft roleplay servers. I sifted through the results until I found one that was actually active.
Character Name: Avila
Character Age: Nineteen
Character Race: Human (Kalltic/Sangrian)
Appearance:
Avila is tall (though nearly short by Kalltic standards) with high cheekbones. She has light brunette hair and the typical Sangrian ice blue eyes. She wears her hair down, with a simple muted olive gown.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
(Let me know if you'd prefer me to mute the green color a little)
Written Test
(Apologies for the length)
Avila had thought herself clever.
Her world was small, but she could navigate it well. Her father was a Kalltic merchant, a man of few words and dry humor. When he was talking business, however, he transformed into a charming and persuasive negotiator. Her mother was a Sangrian noblewoman who would sing her children to sleep with husky songs about the ocean. Though her mother's house was minor and rapidly losing influence, she conducted herself with the utmost dignity. Avila’s family owned a small estate a few days from Storm’s Landing that they kept well-staffed and well-groomed. They kept their daughter cloistered away on it, but she didn’t know enough to care. Her estate was her world and she was its master. As a girl, she could climb every tree and persuade the chariest servant to dispense sweets to her and her younger brother. Her parents believed Avila could gain a place in court and groomed her accordingly with numerous tutors. She was trained in multiple areas, with mixed results. Her tutors managed to instill in her good posture, articulate speech (in Common and Rede), horsemanship, and the ability to paint or embroider misshapen flowers. Her only social outlet were dances with other well-off merchant families. Her Elvish tutor was particularly mediocre, given their family’s limited means, with an even more unwilling tutee. Avila had never met an elf and was stubbornly convinced of the Elvish language's uselessness. Her two years of Elvish tutoring only succeeded in teaching her the Elvish word for "goat". While she submitted to most non-Elvish instruction, Avila had other plans. Since her brother lacked all business sense, she planned on taking over the family’s merchant business. She eavesdropped on her father’s business meetings and fancied herself a keen judge of character.
One lazy afternoon, her Elvish lessons stopped altogether. A servant came bursting in from another part of the house, her voice choked with panic. Avila’s mother had swooned and wouldn’t wake up. Her mother burned with a fever for three weary weeks. All life and levity slipped away from the house. Her father spared no expense in doctors. Avila stayed by her mother’s side, reading stories to her and holding her clammy, wasted hands. When her mother’s fever broke, her mind broke with it. Avila’s mother would stare listlessly up at the ceiling and had to be aided even to drink. Most servants and tutors were let go. Avila’s father would stop at nothing to bring healing to his wife’s mind. Avila spent a year caring for her broken mother while her father traveled for healers. Avila’s brother was thrust into the role as head of their merchant business. He soon discovered that their family had been living beyond their means for years. Avila’s father, determined to live in pseudo-nobility, had kept their estate dependent on each subsequent business deal. His wife's illness had distracted him from full time, and the business had fallen into disarray. His inexperienced son could hardly hope to restore what had been neglected. Avila’s home tightened into a cage. Sickness and grief had stolen her life away from her.
All the while, Avila’s father was still determined to propel Avila into eminence. He strove to convince her that she was the hope of her fading family and a merchant’s life would be wasted on her. When Avila was nineteen, a group of well-dressed men approached Avila’s father. They commended her grace and composure and offered to, for a hefty sum, land her a position as a lady-in-waiting to a prominent noblewoman. Her father accepted without a moment’s thought before setting off on another long journey. Seeing the desperation in her father's eyes, Avila found herself preparing to leave in mute submission. Avila left with the group of taciturn strangers and two horses of luggage. Two days later, she woke up in a sparse woodland to find the strangers gone with her possessions. With creeping horror, Avila realized the truth: the men had been common bandits all along. She sank to her knees and wept.
Avila had thought herself clever, poised, even worldly. There, in the middle of the wilderness, she realized she knew nothing about the world. She had no skills that mattered. Even her supposed grace and poise was only a weak disguise for a common girl lended by mediocre tutors. She didn’t know where she was, or how to get home. If she did get home, what then? Would she nurse her mother until her father’s imprudence landed them in a slum? A salt-tinged breeze brushed her tears away. Avila clenched her jaw. All she could do was keep on. She continued down the dusty path beneath a crisp blue sky, painfully aware that she was an unaccompanied young woman in the wilderness. A farmer passed in a cart and she cajoled him to give her a ride. Within a few hours, Storm’s Landing loomed on the horizon. She straightened her spine as she gazed on the city she had heard so much about. She had no clearly-defined plans. All her plans fell through, anyway. She was neither a merchant nor a lady-in-waiting. She was young, terrified and hopelessly naive. She had a few coins stowed within her gown and a shaky grasp on embroidery. That would have to be enough.
Question: Would she have a last name as a Kalltic merchant's daughter? What are the conventions for Kalltic last names?
duskflower
2. How old are you?
I don't like to make my age public on the internet to avoid attention from creeps, but rest assured I'm well above the minimum age.
3. What country are you from? What is your timezone?
United States, Mountain Time.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
I have.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
I would define metagaming as allowing your character to know information they have not discovered naturally (in the context of roleplay). Specifically, your character knowing or acting on things you've learned OOC (such as through the forums or Discord). Powergaming is when you force something on another person's character without the other player allowing it.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Tell us about yourself! Do you have any examples of your work?
I'm a writer, specifically of novels. I could talk about the nitty-gritty of story structure or theme or character archetypes all day! I also love to read – some of my favorite authors include Tolkien, C.S Lewis and G.K. Chesterton. I've roleplayed on and off for about seven years and love the opportunity it offers to experiment with character development and voice in such a collaborative setting.
8. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I found your server through a Google search for medieval fantasy Minecraft roleplay servers. I sifted through the results until I found one that was actually active.
Character Name: Avila
Character Age: Nineteen
Character Race: Human (Kalltic/Sangrian)
Appearance:
Avila is tall (though nearly short by Kalltic standards) with high cheekbones. She has light brunette hair and the typical Sangrian ice blue eyes. She wears her hair down, with a simple muted olive gown.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
(Let me know if you'd prefer me to mute the green color a little)
Written Test
(Apologies for the length)
Avila had thought herself clever.
Her world was small, but she could navigate it well. Her father was a Kalltic merchant, a man of few words and dry humor. When he was talking business, however, he transformed into a charming and persuasive negotiator. Her mother was a Sangrian noblewoman who would sing her children to sleep with husky songs about the ocean. Though her mother's house was minor and rapidly losing influence, she conducted herself with the utmost dignity. Avila’s family owned a small estate a few days from Storm’s Landing that they kept well-staffed and well-groomed. They kept their daughter cloistered away on it, but she didn’t know enough to care. Her estate was her world and she was its master. As a girl, she could climb every tree and persuade the chariest servant to dispense sweets to her and her younger brother. Her parents believed Avila could gain a place in court and groomed her accordingly with numerous tutors. She was trained in multiple areas, with mixed results. Her tutors managed to instill in her good posture, articulate speech (in Common and Rede), horsemanship, and the ability to paint or embroider misshapen flowers. Her only social outlet were dances with other well-off merchant families. Her Elvish tutor was particularly mediocre, given their family’s limited means, with an even more unwilling tutee. Avila had never met an elf and was stubbornly convinced of the Elvish language's uselessness. Her two years of Elvish tutoring only succeeded in teaching her the Elvish word for "goat". While she submitted to most non-Elvish instruction, Avila had other plans. Since her brother lacked all business sense, she planned on taking over the family’s merchant business. She eavesdropped on her father’s business meetings and fancied herself a keen judge of character.
One lazy afternoon, her Elvish lessons stopped altogether. A servant came bursting in from another part of the house, her voice choked with panic. Avila’s mother had swooned and wouldn’t wake up. Her mother burned with a fever for three weary weeks. All life and levity slipped away from the house. Her father spared no expense in doctors. Avila stayed by her mother’s side, reading stories to her and holding her clammy, wasted hands. When her mother’s fever broke, her mind broke with it. Avila’s mother would stare listlessly up at the ceiling and had to be aided even to drink. Most servants and tutors were let go. Avila’s father would stop at nothing to bring healing to his wife’s mind. Avila spent a year caring for her broken mother while her father traveled for healers. Avila’s brother was thrust into the role as head of their merchant business. He soon discovered that their family had been living beyond their means for years. Avila’s father, determined to live in pseudo-nobility, had kept their estate dependent on each subsequent business deal. His wife's illness had distracted him from full time, and the business had fallen into disarray. His inexperienced son could hardly hope to restore what had been neglected. Avila’s home tightened into a cage. Sickness and grief had stolen her life away from her.
All the while, Avila’s father was still determined to propel Avila into eminence. He strove to convince her that she was the hope of her fading family and a merchant’s life would be wasted on her. When Avila was nineteen, a group of well-dressed men approached Avila’s father. They commended her grace and composure and offered to, for a hefty sum, land her a position as a lady-in-waiting to a prominent noblewoman. Her father accepted without a moment’s thought before setting off on another long journey. Seeing the desperation in her father's eyes, Avila found herself preparing to leave in mute submission. Avila left with the group of taciturn strangers and two horses of luggage. Two days later, she woke up in a sparse woodland to find the strangers gone with her possessions. With creeping horror, Avila realized the truth: the men had been common bandits all along. She sank to her knees and wept.
Avila had thought herself clever, poised, even worldly. There, in the middle of the wilderness, she realized she knew nothing about the world. She had no skills that mattered. Even her supposed grace and poise was only a weak disguise for a common girl lended by mediocre tutors. She didn’t know where she was, or how to get home. If she did get home, what then? Would she nurse her mother until her father’s imprudence landed them in a slum? A salt-tinged breeze brushed her tears away. Avila clenched her jaw. All she could do was keep on. She continued down the dusty path beneath a crisp blue sky, painfully aware that she was an unaccompanied young woman in the wilderness. A farmer passed in a cart and she cajoled him to give her a ride. Within a few hours, Storm’s Landing loomed on the horizon. She straightened her spine as she gazed on the city she had heard so much about. She had no clearly-defined plans. All her plans fell through, anyway. She was neither a merchant nor a lady-in-waiting. She was young, terrified and hopelessly naive. She had a few coins stowed within her gown and a shaky grasp on embroidery. That would have to be enough.
Question: Would she have a last name as a Kalltic merchant's daughter? What are the conventions for Kalltic last names?
