Emtea
Lord of Altera
About You!
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Emtea_
2. How old are you?
19
3. What country are you from?
The US.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yeah.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is using things learned out-of-character for an in-character advantage.
Powergaming is forcing control over a character or a phenomenon that you are not in control of.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Raalvara
8. Tell us about yourself!
Hey there. I'm a college freshman enrolled in a general engineering program, and love storytelling. There hasn't been much free time for my usual hobbies this year, so I decided to revisit this place after exploring it a little a year back. I'm interested in the way cultures and movements across history can be translated into interesting foregrounds for fantasy settings, and enjoy any opportunity to really immerse myself in well-developed worlds, ancient and fictitious alike.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
I'd share my writing, but it's largely snippets of unfinished work or things you'd need context for.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
No. I was looking around for games that translated well into RP when I first saw this place, and wound up on PlanetMC.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Harrison Warner
Character Age:
37
Character Race:
Human, of no distinct culture.
Appearance:
I'm just using this image for a face and build reference. He's not some finely-kitted knight. He usually travels with an old padded vest over a white tunic, with dark padded trousers, and a hefty cloak for travel.
Written Test!
Storm's Landing is warm.
With so many of his years spent braced against the frigid northern winds, Harrison is unused to it. The silence of his travels are just that: silent, in the absence of that sharp howl, without the company of that creeping chill that settles over him like a second skin — an old and half-welcome friend. But there's a gentle quality to these lands, in how the sun's light bathes him in warmth, and the tree-leaves sift gently against the breeze.
In the south, Harrison thinks, the world's not so painted in contrasts.
==========================================================================================================================
If ever there exists a unifying constant across all the land, Harrison reasons it must be that all stables reek of hell.
All the same, the price is decent for a night in Storm's Landing—everything is more expensive, in the crossroads of the Eastern Continent. From the food to the ale, it doesn't surprise him that so many merchant stalls are squeezed together, vying for a foothold by the busy port.
The tavern, too, looks like it could fit his old home thrice-over in its first storey alone. The price is sure to reflect that, but it beats risking his neck in the city's slums. Besides, the journey has left hunger tugging at the corners of his mind, a dull ache he feels in the stiffness in his joints.
Or perhaps that's just him. With every passing day, he is a day older. It's a simple fact, yet one that sits ever more heavily in the back of his mind, a dull awareness that twists the larger questions in his life. But with that age comes experience — enough that he can brush away a twinge of anxiety that comes with the reminder.
Harrison lifts his eyes along the path, sloping upwards into the Kraken's Den. Straightening from the slouch he takes pride in resisting, the man trudges up the cobbled way, and enters through the large doorway.
==========================================================================================================================
The Kraken's Den smells like life.
Everywhere he looks, people from all walks of life engage in their own private merriment, clustered around tables or leaned together to keep steady. Laughter bubbles up from one group, and he has to wonder how a dainty-looking Silver Elf wound up sharing drinks with a burly sellsword. He wonders if the two that rush past, obscuring his view, are Halflings in a brawl or children in a chase.
Across the room, a hearth blazes, casting warm light across the tavern's ground floor. It feels less special, without the lingering chill an d snow-soaked boots. Like everything else in the south, it is a temperate comfort.
In his immediate view are the tables, strewn across the tavern's central floor. To his right, the old barman — Jack, he thinks — takes a rag to a tall, clear glass, drying it off before he tosses the cloth over his shoulder with the casual flourish of experience. Harrison offers him with a tired smile, wondering how many of his sort the man has tended to.
"How cheap's your ale?" Harrison asks, and the smile sharpens with good humor.
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Emtea_
2. How old are you?
19
3. What country are you from?
The US.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yeah.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is using things learned out-of-character for an in-character advantage.
Powergaming is forcing control over a character or a phenomenon that you are not in control of.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Raalvara
8. Tell us about yourself!
Hey there. I'm a college freshman enrolled in a general engineering program, and love storytelling. There hasn't been much free time for my usual hobbies this year, so I decided to revisit this place after exploring it a little a year back. I'm interested in the way cultures and movements across history can be translated into interesting foregrounds for fantasy settings, and enjoy any opportunity to really immerse myself in well-developed worlds, ancient and fictitious alike.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
I'd share my writing, but it's largely snippets of unfinished work or things you'd need context for.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
No. I was looking around for games that translated well into RP when I first saw this place, and wound up on PlanetMC.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Harrison Warner
Character Age:
37
Character Race:
Human, of no distinct culture.
Appearance:
I'm just using this image for a face and build reference. He's not some finely-kitted knight. He usually travels with an old padded vest over a white tunic, with dark padded trousers, and a hefty cloak for travel.
Written Test!
Storm's Landing is warm.
With so many of his years spent braced against the frigid northern winds, Harrison is unused to it. The silence of his travels are just that: silent, in the absence of that sharp howl, without the company of that creeping chill that settles over him like a second skin — an old and half-welcome friend. But there's a gentle quality to these lands, in how the sun's light bathes him in warmth, and the tree-leaves sift gently against the breeze.
In the south, Harrison thinks, the world's not so painted in contrasts.
==========================================================================================================================
If ever there exists a unifying constant across all the land, Harrison reasons it must be that all stables reek of hell.
All the same, the price is decent for a night in Storm's Landing—everything is more expensive, in the crossroads of the Eastern Continent. From the food to the ale, it doesn't surprise him that so many merchant stalls are squeezed together, vying for a foothold by the busy port.
The tavern, too, looks like it could fit his old home thrice-over in its first storey alone. The price is sure to reflect that, but it beats risking his neck in the city's slums. Besides, the journey has left hunger tugging at the corners of his mind, a dull ache he feels in the stiffness in his joints.
Or perhaps that's just him. With every passing day, he is a day older. It's a simple fact, yet one that sits ever more heavily in the back of his mind, a dull awareness that twists the larger questions in his life. But with that age comes experience — enough that he can brush away a twinge of anxiety that comes with the reminder.
Harrison lifts his eyes along the path, sloping upwards into the Kraken's Den. Straightening from the slouch he takes pride in resisting, the man trudges up the cobbled way, and enters through the large doorway.
==========================================================================================================================
The Kraken's Den smells like life.
Everywhere he looks, people from all walks of life engage in their own private merriment, clustered around tables or leaned together to keep steady. Laughter bubbles up from one group, and he has to wonder how a dainty-looking Silver Elf wound up sharing drinks with a burly sellsword. He wonders if the two that rush past, obscuring his view, are Halflings in a brawl or children in a chase.
Across the room, a hearth blazes, casting warm light across the tavern's ground floor. It feels less special, without the lingering chill an d snow-soaked boots. Like everything else in the south, it is a temperate comfort.
In his immediate view are the tables, strewn across the tavern's central floor. To his right, the old barman — Jack, he thinks — takes a rag to a tall, clear glass, drying it off before he tosses the cloth over his shoulder with the casual flourish of experience. Harrison offers him with a tired smile, wondering how many of his sort the man has tended to.
"How cheap's your ale?" Harrison asks, and the smile sharpens with good humor.
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