| Impieri's Whitelist App: ________________________________________ {Introduction Section} Minecraft Username: Impieri Age: 18 Country & Timezone: England Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes Define Metagaming & Powergaming?: Roleplaying your characters abilities to an unreasonable extent to the detriment of other players is the definition of powergaming. An example would be roleplaying a character with “God-like” reflexes that unrealistically dodges any attacks thrown at him. Metagaming is using information obtained out of character in character. An example of this would be finding out the location of somebody out of roleplay and then going to the location to find the person in character to then confront them. Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No Tell us about yourself!: Involved in the MCRP community for more than a couple of years now, I have a passion for writing complex characters that interact dynamically with the world around them. I've been involved in a decent few lore-team positions and outside of minecraft I enjoy music especially. Referral: Galokin ________________________________________ {Character Section} Character Name: Jericho Age: 19 Race: Human Appearance: An innocuous stature of 5'11 carries a mesomorphic frame fed by convenience rather than any remote concern for shape in mind. Dull grey eyes remain ambivalent to what they may set their gaze upon; drooped lids and a certain sunken-ness communicate this disposition effectively . His garbs hit a mark far below remarkable, with only a tattered scarf to add any flair. His hair was a greasy brown, fringed yet undercut to create a certain ruffian look, one only emphasised by a birthmark to be found between his cheek bone and side of his temple that would resemble a V bisected by a line in its middle. (Optional) Picture of the Skin: Attach on the thread Written Test (Min: 400 words): He set his weight down upon the barstool with an effort not befitting such an action. A hand would find itself drumming upon the countertop, as eyes lazily lapped up the room. Slowly scanning for some semblance of a bartend, upon finding what these grey orbs sought he merely brought up an arm with an upraised index. "Cider." With a short nod in rebuttle, as an aproned man behind the counter would begin pouring one out. A couple of dreary seconds of this would ensue before palms collided to put coin in hand and a still and sickly coloured glass would sit in front of Jerchio. "Many thanks for the cat piss." He'd mumble, a quick jerk-tilt of the head and a smirk before allowing himself a sip. The bartend followed suit and would pour one for himself and then be found sat across from him. "Your go to is water, why not stick to it eh?". Symmetrical smiles between the two would be exchanged once-more, like birthday gifts between twin brothers. A reply would come eventually, paired with a scratch of the birthmark upon his cheekbone. "I don't fancy myself particularly 'sobered' tonight." "How come?" He'd enquire, bringing his posture forward in a lean. "I've been thinking an ounce too far for my liking." Another swig of the piss would follow. "One can never think an 'ounce' too far. Unnecessary thoughts are known as occupations." The bartend parried with the rapier that was his tongue. Ever silver. "More of that poetic bollocks, eh? I'm not occupied just-" And before a defensive stance could be assumed, a lunge would split the conversation wide open. "You aren't at ease. Thinking is not the problem. What you're up against is." Silence, so much so that it was deafening. Certainly more than an 'ounce'. This little twilight would sit, suspended, as the bartends eyes would reveal their hazel nature as sunlight broke over him. The dust in the light would settle, and so would the suspense. "And what would that be?" Jericho finally spat, setting his glass firmly down in some sense of finality. "I thought you'd never ask." And so the two sat there, the conversation bubbling with notes of advice, direction and humour. This was Jericho's nature; what appears, superficially, to be the definition of neutrality. But beneath all of this was a fervour revealed only when put upon the stove and stirred. And when he is stirred, there is no greater contradiction in how extreme he may become. |
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