King42
Villager
About You!
1. What is your Minecraft username? TheEdgeKing (Because the world needs more memery in it)
2. How old are you? 22
3. What country are you from? US
4. Have you read the King's Law, Tome of Citizenship, Official Lore, and the Survival Guides yet? Yes
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming? PG is being too strong, too great, too fast, and too much of a boob until you end up shafting someone the chance to respond to your ridiculously and unfairly imbalanced Mary Sue. MG is when you're just looking to get banned, so you take info from some thread and your character magically knows it.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server? No
7. Name one of our current Mentors. Cukie1
8. Tell us about yourself!
I'm a college student. I'm on break. I'm bored as hell. I messed around with some tabletop stuff in the past, but never on Minecraft. I hate grippos, so fight me.
9. Do you have any examples of your work? No
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server? No
About Your Character!
Character Name: Michaelis
Character Age: Old
Character Race: Human
Appearance: If ever there was a man whose very essence was threadbare, it would be Michaelis. Skin so wrinkled and stained from years have travel that he gives off the appearance of crumbling at the touch. Robes have long since lost any luster of color and the fabric has forgotten the meaning of wholeness. He was a tall man, at least in his youth. But now his frame is burdened by age as if the ground attempts with pull him closer into it with each passing day. Despite decrepitcy, his eyes have managed to maintain a blue spark regardless of his threadbare essence.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin: Nah, I'm too lazy
Written Test!
The early morning din of sailors loading cargo onto waiting ships brought life to the docks that Michaelis appreciated. Captains shouted orders above deck while mothers shooed their children to the passenger ship that would take them to the horizons and beyond. Vendors near the main gate of Storm's Landing shouted their wares, and the scent of fish and slop mixed into an aroma only known to port cities.
Michaelis closed his eyes and inhaled. He breathed as much as his jagged lungs would allow and appreciated the vivacity of life here. He sat hunched on the back of a cabbage cart, having sought a place of rest after having walked down the many stairs from the inn, and pondered how long it would be until the next ship came to berth. Midday? Sooner? Tomorrow, perhaps? Of course it hardly mattered. He found that destinations mattered less and less to an old man like him, to those in the priesthood. All that mattered was the going. The people were usually the same from city to city. A ship was a ship and a sermon was a sermon. Michaelis genuinely w-
"You there- Off the cart, y'dodger. Take yer bag of bones elsewhere."
The old man blinked. A slow turn of his head and he noted the cabbage vendor that had wandered around to the back of his cart. He looked less angry, and more perturbed that someone had chosen his cart. Michaelis met the vendor's gaze with a flat expression of his own, but neither spoke nor moved.
"Are y'deaf? I said off! So help me, I ain't got no qualm on calling someone over here to remove ya." The other, who was in his own right a hefty man, raised a fat finger to point accusingly. "I'm tellin' ya, get off my damned cart."
Again, Michaelis neither moved nor spoke. He only continued to meet the gaze of the vendor, which elicited the pudgy lard to turn a shade closer to purple as indignant aggravation took over. He lumbered closer to the old man, and with no care for kindness, grabbed hold of Michaelis's shoulder and pulled him forward off the edge of the cart.
The old man struggled to find his footing at first, and lurched into the vendor that had grabbed him. He managed to correct his footing in time for the vendor to give him a final shove away from the cabbages. A few shaky steps forward and Michaelis finally turned around with shoulders hunched and a particular squint at the vendor. His voice, when he finally spoke, carried an air of depth and clarity. "The Gods remember," he spoke while he fished into a pocket of his robes. The old priest pulled out an old iron key whose bow was fashioned into a spider trapped within a circle. Michaelis tossed the iron key onto the cabbage cart, and once more uttered, "The Gods remember."
And as if nothing had occurred, he turned and began a slow shuffle through the docks. The vendor only continued to glare at the daft old man, half wondering if the fellow had stolen cabbages in that robe of his.
1. What is your Minecraft username? TheEdgeKing (Because the world needs more memery in it)
2. How old are you? 22
3. What country are you from? US
4. Have you read the King's Law, Tome of Citizenship, Official Lore, and the Survival Guides yet? Yes
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming? PG is being too strong, too great, too fast, and too much of a boob until you end up shafting someone the chance to respond to your ridiculously and unfairly imbalanced Mary Sue. MG is when you're just looking to get banned, so you take info from some thread and your character magically knows it.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server? No
7. Name one of our current Mentors. Cukie1
8. Tell us about yourself!
I'm a college student. I'm on break. I'm bored as hell. I messed around with some tabletop stuff in the past, but never on Minecraft. I hate grippos, so fight me.
9. Do you have any examples of your work? No
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server? No
About Your Character!
Character Name: Michaelis
Character Age: Old
Character Race: Human
Appearance: If ever there was a man whose very essence was threadbare, it would be Michaelis. Skin so wrinkled and stained from years have travel that he gives off the appearance of crumbling at the touch. Robes have long since lost any luster of color and the fabric has forgotten the meaning of wholeness. He was a tall man, at least in his youth. But now his frame is burdened by age as if the ground attempts with pull him closer into it with each passing day. Despite decrepitcy, his eyes have managed to maintain a blue spark regardless of his threadbare essence.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin: Nah, I'm too lazy
Written Test!
The early morning din of sailors loading cargo onto waiting ships brought life to the docks that Michaelis appreciated. Captains shouted orders above deck while mothers shooed their children to the passenger ship that would take them to the horizons and beyond. Vendors near the main gate of Storm's Landing shouted their wares, and the scent of fish and slop mixed into an aroma only known to port cities.
Michaelis closed his eyes and inhaled. He breathed as much as his jagged lungs would allow and appreciated the vivacity of life here. He sat hunched on the back of a cabbage cart, having sought a place of rest after having walked down the many stairs from the inn, and pondered how long it would be until the next ship came to berth. Midday? Sooner? Tomorrow, perhaps? Of course it hardly mattered. He found that destinations mattered less and less to an old man like him, to those in the priesthood. All that mattered was the going. The people were usually the same from city to city. A ship was a ship and a sermon was a sermon. Michaelis genuinely w-
"You there- Off the cart, y'dodger. Take yer bag of bones elsewhere."
The old man blinked. A slow turn of his head and he noted the cabbage vendor that had wandered around to the back of his cart. He looked less angry, and more perturbed that someone had chosen his cart. Michaelis met the vendor's gaze with a flat expression of his own, but neither spoke nor moved.
"Are y'deaf? I said off! So help me, I ain't got no qualm on calling someone over here to remove ya." The other, who was in his own right a hefty man, raised a fat finger to point accusingly. "I'm tellin' ya, get off my damned cart."
Again, Michaelis neither moved nor spoke. He only continued to meet the gaze of the vendor, which elicited the pudgy lard to turn a shade closer to purple as indignant aggravation took over. He lumbered closer to the old man, and with no care for kindness, grabbed hold of Michaelis's shoulder and pulled him forward off the edge of the cart.
The old man struggled to find his footing at first, and lurched into the vendor that had grabbed him. He managed to correct his footing in time for the vendor to give him a final shove away from the cabbages. A few shaky steps forward and Michaelis finally turned around with shoulders hunched and a particular squint at the vendor. His voice, when he finally spoke, carried an air of depth and clarity. "The Gods remember," he spoke while he fished into a pocket of his robes. The old priest pulled out an old iron key whose bow was fashioned into a spider trapped within a circle. Michaelis tossed the iron key onto the cabbage cart, and once more uttered, "The Gods remember."
And as if nothing had occurred, he turned and began a slow shuffle through the docks. The vendor only continued to glare at the daft old man, half wondering if the fellow had stolen cabbages in that robe of his.
