Aqua Vita
Villager
GlutenFreeWater_
GlutenFreeWater_'s Whitelist App:
________________________________________
{Introduction Section}
Minecraft Username: GlutenFreeWater_
Age: 22
Country & Timezone: United States, EST
Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes
Define Metagaming & Powergaming?: Metagaming is when you employ knowledge gained in an out-of-character environment in order to gain some sort of advantage within roleplay. For example, rallying to the aid of one of your friends who's being attacked after they send you a Discord message. Powergaming is when a player acts in way so that their character is essentially overpowered. For example, being in combat and somehow dodging or blocking all attacks regardless of the character's actual abilities or the situation.
Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No
Tell us about yourself!: Hello I'm 22 years old and I live in Ohio. I enjoy playing games with my friends, reading fantasy books, and learning history-- which I studied in college. I enjoy playing a pretty good variety of games but of note are the Souls games and Warhammer Vermintide. I've been roleplaying probably since I was around the age of 11 or 12, though I haven't done so much of it lately. Most of the roleplay I have done in the last few years has been more small scale stuff with some friends, though I did previously play on a large Minecraft server called Lords of the Craft.
Referral: Zoslore
________________________________________
{Character Section}
Character Name: Alastair
Age: 32
Race: Human
Appearance: Alastair is a human man entering into his early thirties. He has dark black hair, lightly colored skin, and blue eyes. He tends to keep himself fairly well-groomed and favors more formal garb.
Written Test (Min: 400 words): Alastair sat at his desk in a dimly lit office, a single well-worn candle by his side illuminating the letter he’d been laboring over– a light which was shortly extinguished by a small breeze which snuck in through one of the curtained windows. He sighed quietly, setting down his quill and moved to relight the now smoldering wick using the small fireplace which sat parallel to his desk. However, for his attempts Alastair was rewarded only with smoke. The candle had been on its last legs, but he’d hoped it would make it through the final few letters he still had to write. After all, it was his last candle. The only light he had now was the fireplace, and it too looked to be on the verge of dying. Regrettably, it would have to do. It was late at night and the shops had long since shuttered their doors. In fact, Alastair imagined he was one of the few souls actually awake at this time of night and probably the only one doing so without bad intentions.
Long nights were no stranger to Alastair. Urgent orders often found their way to his desk and, as a scribe, it was his duty to ensure they were completed and the subsequent letter was sent out in a timely manner. The letter currently sitting half-complete on his desk was one part of a set of letters which had to be sent to persons of import in the surrounding towns and cities. Apparently, a group of scouts sent out had managed to confirm the rumor that a family of griffins was in the area. That done, it was Alastair’s duty to send out letters to the surrounding regions carrying a warning and requesting aid so that something might be done about the winged beasts.
It was hardly glamorous work, that would belong to whatever champion managed to take credit for slaying or driving off the beasts, but it suited Alastair. He had never been a man suited to the sword. He had done some light practice with the blade and other martial arts– it was necessary for someone like him who was often awake late to learn at least some basic way to defend himself, after all. Especially since he had taken a liking to roaming the streets around his office in order to collect his thoughts. No, Alastair’s place was at his desk and he would doubtlessly be more sorely missed there than on any field of battle. With that thought in his head and nothing else to do, he pushed his desk closer to the fireplace and sat down once more to finish the last of the letters.
________________________________________
{Introduction Section}
Minecraft Username: GlutenFreeWater_
Age: 22
Country & Timezone: United States, EST
Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes
Define Metagaming & Powergaming?: Metagaming is when you employ knowledge gained in an out-of-character environment in order to gain some sort of advantage within roleplay. For example, rallying to the aid of one of your friends who's being attacked after they send you a Discord message. Powergaming is when a player acts in way so that their character is essentially overpowered. For example, being in combat and somehow dodging or blocking all attacks regardless of the character's actual abilities or the situation.
Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No
Tell us about yourself!: Hello I'm 22 years old and I live in Ohio. I enjoy playing games with my friends, reading fantasy books, and learning history-- which I studied in college. I enjoy playing a pretty good variety of games but of note are the Souls games and Warhammer Vermintide. I've been roleplaying probably since I was around the age of 11 or 12, though I haven't done so much of it lately. Most of the roleplay I have done in the last few years has been more small scale stuff with some friends, though I did previously play on a large Minecraft server called Lords of the Craft.
Referral: Zoslore
________________________________________
{Character Section}
Character Name: Alastair
Age: 32
Race: Human
Appearance: Alastair is a human man entering into his early thirties. He has dark black hair, lightly colored skin, and blue eyes. He tends to keep himself fairly well-groomed and favors more formal garb.
Written Test (Min: 400 words): Alastair sat at his desk in a dimly lit office, a single well-worn candle by his side illuminating the letter he’d been laboring over– a light which was shortly extinguished by a small breeze which snuck in through one of the curtained windows. He sighed quietly, setting down his quill and moved to relight the now smoldering wick using the small fireplace which sat parallel to his desk. However, for his attempts Alastair was rewarded only with smoke. The candle had been on its last legs, but he’d hoped it would make it through the final few letters he still had to write. After all, it was his last candle. The only light he had now was the fireplace, and it too looked to be on the verge of dying. Regrettably, it would have to do. It was late at night and the shops had long since shuttered their doors. In fact, Alastair imagined he was one of the few souls actually awake at this time of night and probably the only one doing so without bad intentions.
Long nights were no stranger to Alastair. Urgent orders often found their way to his desk and, as a scribe, it was his duty to ensure they were completed and the subsequent letter was sent out in a timely manner. The letter currently sitting half-complete on his desk was one part of a set of letters which had to be sent to persons of import in the surrounding towns and cities. Apparently, a group of scouts sent out had managed to confirm the rumor that a family of griffins was in the area. That done, it was Alastair’s duty to send out letters to the surrounding regions carrying a warning and requesting aid so that something might be done about the winged beasts.
It was hardly glamorous work, that would belong to whatever champion managed to take credit for slaying or driving off the beasts, but it suited Alastair. He had never been a man suited to the sword. He had done some light practice with the blade and other martial arts– it was necessary for someone like him who was often awake late to learn at least some basic way to defend himself, after all. Especially since he had taken a liking to roaming the streets around his office in order to collect his thoughts. No, Alastair’s place was at his desk and he would doubtlessly be more sorely missed there than on any field of battle. With that thought in his head and nothing else to do, he pushed his desk closer to the fireplace and sat down once more to finish the last of the letters.
Last edited:
