Minecraft Username: Enttauschung
Age: 20
Country & Timezone: US-MDT/MST
Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes
Define Metagaming & Powergaming?: Metagaming is the use of strictly OOC knowledge to give yourself an unfair IC advantage over other players. Powergaming is the act of removing character agency from other players, controlling their actions to give you an unfair advantage.
Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No
Tell us about yourself!: My name is Hemo, and I've been RPing for about three years. I like to hang out with people, have fun, and make lots of stupid and silly drawings about ic interactions.
Referral: Bleyjo, Morpheus, and Mael_
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Character Name: Beine
Age: A few millenia, given construct-appears young adult
Race: Immortal Construct
Appearance:
(Optional) Picture of the Skin: Attach on the thread
Written Test (Min: 400 words):
“Stop right there!”
“You can’t go on forever!”
“You can run, but you can’t hide!”
The calls would fall onto deaf ears. Rosco was on a mission; to escape, and to be the biggest pain in Beine’s ass. The colorful little nightmare that was the rooster would scurry down the road, while the construct chased after with growing frustration and urgency. This spoiled little brat was well-fed, had a cozy shelter, and many people to torture within the comfort of his home. And that wasn’t good enough for him!?
As the village road turned into forest, the bird would take off from the road, darting into the trees. Terror pooled in her metaphorical gut–there were foxes, and wolves, and other birds of prey! She could only imagine the downfall of the cocky bird she was chasing, she couldn’t let it happen!
Tumbling through bramble and bushes, circling around trees, nearly tripping from gopher holes, actually tripping from gopher holes…she would hit the ground with a resounding clank, swiping dust from her eyes. Slowly sitting up, she watched the silhouette of Rosco disappear into the forest, far from her sight. Dang it!
—
“Rosco, Rosco…!” Hours had passed now. In her palm, she held up bits of grain and veggies–Rosco’s favorite–in her hands, calling out his name. The efforts, at this point were quite futile. However, if Beine was anything, she was determined. Even if it meant bring back only a severed chicken foot, and suffering the berating of her boss, she would bring that stupid bird back. It was, by no means, his first break-out, but it was the first time he had taken to those blasted woods! If she hadn’t known better, she would assume the bird had a death wish. It was more likely that he was trying to take on the Gods.
Dragging herself across a stream, her dinky lantern dimly illuminating the woods, she would finally catch sight of feathers on the path. As well as splatters of blood. Given that the rest of the carcass wasn’t here, she could only assume that either the bird was injured and ran, or that a predator dragged it off to another location. Biene hoped for the initial, over the latter.
The path was difficult to follow, especially as the sun fell over the forest, and she lost the benefit of bright light. The feathers were few and scattered, and the more she walked, the more she began to lose hope. She lost confidence in calling his name, not wanting to alert predators, so she continued her search in silence.
Until she ended up at the mouth a dark cave.
She could hear it before she saw it. The heavy breathing, low growls, and the shuffling of dirt. It echoed through the rocky cavern, vibrations matching the shivers that went down her spine. She might be resolute, but fighting a bear…? She was NOT confident that she would be able to get home at all, bird or not. So she slowly turned around…
“BA-CAWK!”
What.
Slowly, she turned around.
No, there was no way.
She raised the lantern into the cave, pushing her luck. On the body of the sleeping bear, sat a rooster–one with roughly plucked feathers–staring at her. Mockingly. ‘Come and get me. I dare you.’ The eye contact they made was heavy. At least there was something that she could bring back, but…her eyes would drift to the bear. It would only be ignorant for her presence for so long. And with Rosco’s loud screeches…she could feel the bird smirking. He knew he had won. And she had to live with the fact that she lost to a chicken.
As her eyes drifted back up to him, she would only give a nod, before turning away. Yeah, she’d be forced to work to buy a new rooster, but…for all the trouble Rosco was, he earned her respect. And fear. She was going to go home, and sleep off this weird fever dream of a day. |
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