Levansy
Villager
1. What is your Minecraft username?
My Minecraft username is Levansy341.
2. How old are you?
I am 17 years old, and will be turning 18 in June.
3. What country are you from?
I am from England, in the United Kingdom.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yes, I have read through the necessary pages.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
In my own words and with a brief explanation, metagaming and powergaming of a Roleplay sense is using instances of Roleplay that are illogical, without context or reason, that are not involving the consent of the other Roleplayer/s involved, and overall are tactics used in the game or in a Roleplay setting that will work to the benefit of the Meta-Roleplayer while other Roleplayers are taken advantage of storyline wise.
An example of this could be creating NPC’s on the spot with no background or logical reasoning to get a character out of a situation that may hinder them, or force a certain storyline.
This example in closer detail could be a player creating guards to save them from a crime committed or situation that they must deal with, when there are clearly none around as legitimate players and the context of having guards involved with the Meta-Gamer’s character is unreasonable and illegitimate.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server? (This question goes for any method that can be used to unfairly find and mine ores.)
No, the server does not allow these mods or texturepacks, or any methods of this kind.
“This includes, but is not limited to, flymod, and X-Ray mod (and X-Ray texturepacks.”
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
One of the current Mentors is Niko.
8. Tell us about yourself!
---
I’d like to keep my real name to myself, but everyone on here can call me Lev, or Leva if you’d like!
I am from England, and have moved about the world quite a bit during my brief 17 years on planet earth. This has fueled my curiosity for life, as well as games - and more importantly, servers like this! This is why Roleplay is such a huge part of my life. With what experiences I’ve had so far, Roleplay helps me put them to use, explore the expanses of storytelling and create lives with so much to tell!
Apart from gaming (Minecraft, Skyrim, TF2, Indie Gaming, Sims 3, etc), I’m an avid reader and writer. I am also a theatre kid (‘Thespian’ if we’re going for the pretentious term, aha), studying at college on a Level 3 DPL in Performing Arts, Acting. I love to involve myself with characters, plots and worlds, whether that is of my own creation or someone else’s.
Moving away from the hobbies linking to my passion for Roleplay, I love to sing and have done so all my life. Music is a huge part of my day to day life, and without it I don’t think I’d be the person I am today. I don’t have a set style, and I listen to what sounds good to me or has meaning. However, my taste of music usually ranges amongst tracks and artists that aren’t too mainstream. (Yes, I sound like a stuck up hipster, but I have nothing against mainstream music! I just find myself listening to everything and anything. Whoops.~)
I sadly have no pets, though cats are my absolute favourite animal if that helps with that question!
I hope this rounds up a bit about who I am!
---
10. Do you have any examples of your work? (This question is optional! Are you an artist? A builder? A writer? If you want to show off some of your work, we'd love to see it! You can upload a file at the bottom of the page to attach some pictures if you like! If you don't have anything you want to show, that is perfectly fine. Don't worry.)
I am not sure my links are working too well, but I do have some options of writing I have done with Advanced Literate Roleplay plots.
This first is based around a character used by me for various Roleplay opportunities. This so happens to be set in the Victorian Era, and is much of the basic Victorian introduction to an Advanced Literate Roleplay.
---
As London bustled with the energy of the afternoon, a carriage rolled down the streets of the rougher side of the city, the wheels bumping along. A gloved hand gently brushed the curtain of the carriage on the left window across, followed by a pale face, soft in features though her jaw was sharp, with rosy lips and porcelain skin, and hair as dark as freezing winter nights. The face peered out at the street passing.
The sea could be seen swaying, waves crashing as the dark water glinted with the light of the full moon. The eyes residing on the face - a jade green, large and intrigued - scanned over the view from her window. She loved to take in the surroundings as they passed in a carriage, so much to see in such short amounts of time.
’’Sage? Are you listening?”
The girl turned her head with a soft sigh out through her nose, onto a woman with dark brown, pinned up locks, parts of her face resembling the girl. Her name was Wynna Villimore, and was the mother of the girl with eyes like oriental stone and hair like coal, Sage Villimore.
‘’Hm?”
Sage peered at her mother, forcing away the hints of boredom on her features, her mother watching her with eyes like a hawk. Sage was used to this by now.
“We are to dine with Lord Veron tomorrow night, and so you must wear something suitable. The dress your father mailed back would look wonderful, dear. And we must have your hair done especially pretty, with the clips Sir Oswald adored-”
“Sir Oswald?”
Sage furrowed her brows for a moment, her mother casting her gaze out her own window, as Sage continued, trying to get answers from her mother.
“Is he attending too?”
No reply.
“Oh, Mother, please...You must know how terrible he is. The things he said to Poppy were disgusting.”
Her mother rolled her eyes, muttering as she cast her gaze back to Sage.
“My, your appreciation for our staff is quite attractive.”
Sarcasm. Sage had to force away a scowl at her mother's mocking, listening to her continue.
“He is a very eligible man, and Lord Vernon’s son. He will be attending, and you shall dance with him.”
Sage muttered under her breath as her face dropped slightly.
“I’d much rather dance with a swine. Though, the difference is short.”
Her mother was about to scold her with an offended look about her features, when the carriage came to an abrupt halt, causing the two to look about. Sage watched as the driver opened up the door to speak in an apologetic tone to Mrs Villimore.
“I am- I am truly sorry, Ma’am, but…”
“Spit it out, Fred.”
“The carriage wheel. It’s gone and broke on ‘us. Pardon me language, but there are better wheels on a bleedin’ traders tru-”
Her mother cut him off, grumbling to herself afterwards.
“That is enough, Fred. I suppose we shall go for a walk, Sage. While Fred fixes our transport.”
A harsh glare to him, and the man - with wide eyes - rushed out of the doorway.
Sage wanted to apologise to Fred, he had done nothing wrong. It was the fault of the carriage, her mother just enjoyed the authority. Sage enjoyed seeing her authority failing, so this was not an enjoyable situation.
The two slipped out of the carriage and into the cold night, the place bustling. They were at the docks.
---
This next example is an introduction to the plot of a Roleplay I have created on a different site, which I named ‘The Witching Bell.’
---
Long ago, four women from four different leads of Witchcraft ruled the land, their covern meetings held on the grounds that Beniston Academy is now built on.
Lironeia.The Leader of Hereditary.
Dianel. The leader of Solitary.
Versity. The leader of Clairvoyant.
Noaken. The leader of Ember.
These four women worked together as a sisterhood of Witchcraft, each using their individual beliefs and abilities to harness a safe living for their kind amongst the community they lived in. They were known as the Witches of Old.
Years passed, and between these years, Lironeia - the leader of Hereditary - started seeing the other three as no more than obstacles holding her back. The feud escalated as years went by. Willowna was cruel, but Noaken was just as envious. She decided that if Lironeia was to gain more power than was seen as fair to the four, then she would overtake her.
The two women set to work discovering the weakness’ of each of the women, before soon acting upon it. Lironeia cast an enchantment of plague upon the mother and father of Noaken, and of Dianel. Noaken reacted with an enchantment of damnation upon the second sister and third brother of Lironeia, and the father of Versity.
The four women and their bonds were snapped apart, and soon became enemies with a hunger for revenge. On an unmarked year, on an unmarked month, on an unmarked day, the women fought not only for the last remaining existence of power amongst themselves, but for the need to tear apart the women who they trusted once before and who betrayed them all.
The battle was hard, and dangerous, and their cries of anger and agony and defiance could be heard for miles. And it ended in flames, and ashes, and bones.
Three died.
One remained.
But as to who, no one knows.
The families passed on, and some may still be alive with the blood of Lironeia, Dianel, Versity and Noaken in their veins.. But fate plays a huge part in this story too, as the groups we see in Beniston Academy are the new leaders of this community and land, so to speak. And all are hungry for justice, power, or peace.
History could rewrite itself, or we may finally get to witness the true leader of the Witches of Old, reborn.
We’ll have to wait and see.
---
And finally, this third example is a basic introduction to a modern Roleplay done with a few of my Advanced Literate Roleplay buds, based around Cassandra Claire’s Universe in ‘The Infernal Devices’, ‘The Mortal Instruments’ and ‘The Dark Artifices’.
---
The halls of the Institute lay silent as evening was used for rest. The inhabitants of the rooms were all growing comfortable, slipping into bed, or reading their books. They were loosening up after a day of work. However, Shadowhunters never slept, in a sense. Always aware that their presence might be needed at any given time.
Despite this all, the Shadowhunters at the New York Institute were busy doing whatever they pleased.
Apart from one.
The blade of a Seraph swung through the air with a body moving in unison, crashing down and hitting the air, before the blur of black clothes and hair swiftly rolled forward, using the momentum to throw themselves into the air, kicking out their foot to send their body turning in a frontflip like a bullet in range of its target, before one of the feet, covered with a pristine combat boot, contacted with the marble of the training hall, the other swinging around in a full 360 circle, the blade cutting through the air like butter to a hot knife.
The movements of this blur were fluid, as the figure threw themselves about, practicing their swings before they finished with a final thrust forward of the glinting Seraph blade in their two hands, now crouching on the floor. They were the figure of a woman.
Panting from the tall female sounded about the room as she slowly stood, taking a hand away from the blade’s hilt to brush her lengthy, dark hair from her face, the sweat leaving her forehead shining.
A pair of dark eyes stared forward, her expression one of a nonchalant neutral, plump lips parted and gaze unemotional. She let the blade swing in her right hands grip, walking to the wall and going to hook the blade up, catching her breath.
She wore black training gear - a form fitted but cotton, black tank top, and fitted black leggings. Her arms, chest and back were laced and carved into with inky Runes, like markings of another language echoing through her skin.
As the tap of feet on the flooring sounded, the woman had hooked up the blade to the wall and turned, folding her arms as a blonde head of hair walked forward, figure tall like hers but male, and with toned limbs dressed in a maroon sweater and some black jeans. He furrowed his brows in concern for a few moments, speaking as the two walked up to each other, the girl panting slightly from her workout.
“You’ve been training all day, Eia.”
He sighed out as he spoke, kind eyes scanning her face. She was always in neutral, always unemotional and even after training sessions like these. She hadn’t always been this skilled. Years and years of blood and sweat and tears of the struggle of learning the combat of Shadowhunters pumped through her veins now. Some were naturals at heart, but Eia had worked her way up. She’d trained herself to mask the stress it had on her body as it did everyone. And so there she was, unemotional. But there was a hint of agitation today. A frustration he knew about.
“I got bored.”
The girl, Eia Garcia, tried to walk past the male, and he turned with her feet moving, gaze following her as he continued to follow.
“Look, I can see this is a distraction from the mission, but you’re going to break yourself down training this hard. You’re not going to find any leads with repeated demon kills that don’t need to be done right now.”
As she walked, staring forward with narrowed eyes, arms moving by her sides loosely as the two crossed the corridors from the training room, she spoke in answer to his question with an unbothered tone, her voice low in pitch and high in cold sarcasm, as usual.
“I know this is a bit hard to believe, Kingsley, but I honestly don’t give a shit.”
The male, walking with his elbow held in his hand as he walked slightly behind her, listening to her words, then frowned and spoke up.
“Eia, please.”
Eia stopped in her tracks, fluidly turning slowly on her feet to face him, muttering casually.
“I either keep training until I can’t move, or you don’t say bull to Levislen and I can go ease myself up.”
“Ease yourself up?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“Eia, you’re talking about Zerath Eloiso.”
A blank blink from Eia, before she spoke to him like the idea of the supernatural charm wasn’t dangerous.
“Again, I know.”
”It’s going to kill you if you keep using the charm for demon hunting, especially this much.”
Eia sighed and gave him a fake smile as she started to turn and continue her walk. Repeating himself seemed to be the only option, but this time with more emphasis. The girl never listened to him. Their bond was quite a strange thing that he valued. Just not at times like these, when all she ended up acting like was stubborn and self-entitled. He had to admit, this was the norm.
“It’s going to get you killed, Eia!”
“We don’t know that. Come on, grab your coat.”
Eia had taken him up to the rooms, crossing the hall to hers and pulling on a leather jacket, with Kingsley watching her in confusion.
“Why?”
No answer. His face dropped and his tone changed in worry.
“No, no, no. Eia, we’re not-“
“Are you coming, or not, King? I don’t care where you go, but I don’t have all night.”
A soft murmur of protest before the two locked eyes in her doorway, and he grumbled with a grit of teeth.
“Fine! Fine.”
As he crossed the hall to grab his coat from his room, he expressed another under the breath comment loud enough for her to hear.
”The things I do for friends.”
”That’s cute. We’re not friends.”
---
11. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I was not referred by anyone, but I found the server while searching for Roleplay Minecraft Servers of the Medieval theme.
---
Character sheet:
---
Character Name: Irinei Veon
Character Age: 21
Character Race: Human.
Appearance:
Irenei Veon stands at 5’5 in height, with a slim frame and figure. She weighs 133lbs, due to a fast metabolism and not having necessary means to consume food of an expensive variety. Her hair is a dark shade of brown, and in most lights will appear black. The length is to just below her chest, though she keeps it pushed or tied back most of the time. The texture of her hair is not too dry, but one would not go out of their way to say it was luscious and silky. She does not have the means to take care of her hair to this extra extent, but she gets by with her clean but average hair. She is pale in colour, with skin that never tans but flushes pink easily from heat, cold, pressure to the skin and other factors. The female’s eyes are a deep shade of emerald/earth green that seem to be her most prominent feature upon her being.
Irinei’s clothing is not a wardrobe to be envious other, but she doesn’t mind much. She prefers comfort over expenses, and so she is usually seen in what would usually be considered a man’s style of clothing but fitted to suit her figure. She wears hunters material trousers that are form fitted to her legs, a farming shirt that she usually tucks into her hunters trousers – though she can often be seen with the fabric of the long shirt slightly unevenly tucked – which is of a light beige colour, and wears her green hunters jacket everywhere she goes as it provides warmth and comfort, and protection for her arms and torso. Finally, she can sometimes be seen with a red scarf around her neck, wrapped loosely.
My Minecraft username is Levansy341.
2. How old are you?
I am 17 years old, and will be turning 18 in June.
3. What country are you from?
I am from England, in the United Kingdom.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yes, I have read through the necessary pages.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
In my own words and with a brief explanation, metagaming and powergaming of a Roleplay sense is using instances of Roleplay that are illogical, without context or reason, that are not involving the consent of the other Roleplayer/s involved, and overall are tactics used in the game or in a Roleplay setting that will work to the benefit of the Meta-Roleplayer while other Roleplayers are taken advantage of storyline wise.
An example of this could be creating NPC’s on the spot with no background or logical reasoning to get a character out of a situation that may hinder them, or force a certain storyline.
This example in closer detail could be a player creating guards to save them from a crime committed or situation that they must deal with, when there are clearly none around as legitimate players and the context of having guards involved with the Meta-Gamer’s character is unreasonable and illegitimate.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server? (This question goes for any method that can be used to unfairly find and mine ores.)
No, the server does not allow these mods or texturepacks, or any methods of this kind.
“This includes, but is not limited to, flymod, and X-Ray mod (and X-Ray texturepacks.”
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
One of the current Mentors is Niko.
8. Tell us about yourself!
---
I’d like to keep my real name to myself, but everyone on here can call me Lev, or Leva if you’d like!
I am from England, and have moved about the world quite a bit during my brief 17 years on planet earth. This has fueled my curiosity for life, as well as games - and more importantly, servers like this! This is why Roleplay is such a huge part of my life. With what experiences I’ve had so far, Roleplay helps me put them to use, explore the expanses of storytelling and create lives with so much to tell!
Apart from gaming (Minecraft, Skyrim, TF2, Indie Gaming, Sims 3, etc), I’m an avid reader and writer. I am also a theatre kid (‘Thespian’ if we’re going for the pretentious term, aha), studying at college on a Level 3 DPL in Performing Arts, Acting. I love to involve myself with characters, plots and worlds, whether that is of my own creation or someone else’s.
Moving away from the hobbies linking to my passion for Roleplay, I love to sing and have done so all my life. Music is a huge part of my day to day life, and without it I don’t think I’d be the person I am today. I don’t have a set style, and I listen to what sounds good to me or has meaning. However, my taste of music usually ranges amongst tracks and artists that aren’t too mainstream. (Yes, I sound like a stuck up hipster, but I have nothing against mainstream music! I just find myself listening to everything and anything. Whoops.~)
I sadly have no pets, though cats are my absolute favourite animal if that helps with that question!
I hope this rounds up a bit about who I am!
---
10. Do you have any examples of your work? (This question is optional! Are you an artist? A builder? A writer? If you want to show off some of your work, we'd love to see it! You can upload a file at the bottom of the page to attach some pictures if you like! If you don't have anything you want to show, that is perfectly fine. Don't worry.)
I am not sure my links are working too well, but I do have some options of writing I have done with Advanced Literate Roleplay plots.
This first is based around a character used by me for various Roleplay opportunities. This so happens to be set in the Victorian Era, and is much of the basic Victorian introduction to an Advanced Literate Roleplay.
---
As London bustled with the energy of the afternoon, a carriage rolled down the streets of the rougher side of the city, the wheels bumping along. A gloved hand gently brushed the curtain of the carriage on the left window across, followed by a pale face, soft in features though her jaw was sharp, with rosy lips and porcelain skin, and hair as dark as freezing winter nights. The face peered out at the street passing.
The sea could be seen swaying, waves crashing as the dark water glinted with the light of the full moon. The eyes residing on the face - a jade green, large and intrigued - scanned over the view from her window. She loved to take in the surroundings as they passed in a carriage, so much to see in such short amounts of time.
’’Sage? Are you listening?”
The girl turned her head with a soft sigh out through her nose, onto a woman with dark brown, pinned up locks, parts of her face resembling the girl. Her name was Wynna Villimore, and was the mother of the girl with eyes like oriental stone and hair like coal, Sage Villimore.
‘’Hm?”
Sage peered at her mother, forcing away the hints of boredom on her features, her mother watching her with eyes like a hawk. Sage was used to this by now.
“We are to dine with Lord Veron tomorrow night, and so you must wear something suitable. The dress your father mailed back would look wonderful, dear. And we must have your hair done especially pretty, with the clips Sir Oswald adored-”
“Sir Oswald?”
Sage furrowed her brows for a moment, her mother casting her gaze out her own window, as Sage continued, trying to get answers from her mother.
“Is he attending too?”
No reply.
“Oh, Mother, please...You must know how terrible he is. The things he said to Poppy were disgusting.”
Her mother rolled her eyes, muttering as she cast her gaze back to Sage.
“My, your appreciation for our staff is quite attractive.”
Sarcasm. Sage had to force away a scowl at her mother's mocking, listening to her continue.
“He is a very eligible man, and Lord Vernon’s son. He will be attending, and you shall dance with him.”
Sage muttered under her breath as her face dropped slightly.
“I’d much rather dance with a swine. Though, the difference is short.”
Her mother was about to scold her with an offended look about her features, when the carriage came to an abrupt halt, causing the two to look about. Sage watched as the driver opened up the door to speak in an apologetic tone to Mrs Villimore.
“I am- I am truly sorry, Ma’am, but…”
“Spit it out, Fred.”
“The carriage wheel. It’s gone and broke on ‘us. Pardon me language, but there are better wheels on a bleedin’ traders tru-”
Her mother cut him off, grumbling to herself afterwards.
“That is enough, Fred. I suppose we shall go for a walk, Sage. While Fred fixes our transport.”
A harsh glare to him, and the man - with wide eyes - rushed out of the doorway.
Sage wanted to apologise to Fred, he had done nothing wrong. It was the fault of the carriage, her mother just enjoyed the authority. Sage enjoyed seeing her authority failing, so this was not an enjoyable situation.
The two slipped out of the carriage and into the cold night, the place bustling. They were at the docks.
---
This next example is an introduction to the plot of a Roleplay I have created on a different site, which I named ‘The Witching Bell.’
---
Long ago, four women from four different leads of Witchcraft ruled the land, their covern meetings held on the grounds that Beniston Academy is now built on.
Lironeia.The Leader of Hereditary.
Dianel. The leader of Solitary.
Versity. The leader of Clairvoyant.
Noaken. The leader of Ember.
These four women worked together as a sisterhood of Witchcraft, each using their individual beliefs and abilities to harness a safe living for their kind amongst the community they lived in. They were known as the Witches of Old.
Years passed, and between these years, Lironeia - the leader of Hereditary - started seeing the other three as no more than obstacles holding her back. The feud escalated as years went by. Willowna was cruel, but Noaken was just as envious. She decided that if Lironeia was to gain more power than was seen as fair to the four, then she would overtake her.
The two women set to work discovering the weakness’ of each of the women, before soon acting upon it. Lironeia cast an enchantment of plague upon the mother and father of Noaken, and of Dianel. Noaken reacted with an enchantment of damnation upon the second sister and third brother of Lironeia, and the father of Versity.
The four women and their bonds were snapped apart, and soon became enemies with a hunger for revenge. On an unmarked year, on an unmarked month, on an unmarked day, the women fought not only for the last remaining existence of power amongst themselves, but for the need to tear apart the women who they trusted once before and who betrayed them all.
The battle was hard, and dangerous, and their cries of anger and agony and defiance could be heard for miles. And it ended in flames, and ashes, and bones.
Three died.
One remained.
But as to who, no one knows.
The families passed on, and some may still be alive with the blood of Lironeia, Dianel, Versity and Noaken in their veins.. But fate plays a huge part in this story too, as the groups we see in Beniston Academy are the new leaders of this community and land, so to speak. And all are hungry for justice, power, or peace.
History could rewrite itself, or we may finally get to witness the true leader of the Witches of Old, reborn.
We’ll have to wait and see.
---
And finally, this third example is a basic introduction to a modern Roleplay done with a few of my Advanced Literate Roleplay buds, based around Cassandra Claire’s Universe in ‘The Infernal Devices’, ‘The Mortal Instruments’ and ‘The Dark Artifices’.
---
The halls of the Institute lay silent as evening was used for rest. The inhabitants of the rooms were all growing comfortable, slipping into bed, or reading their books. They were loosening up after a day of work. However, Shadowhunters never slept, in a sense. Always aware that their presence might be needed at any given time.
Despite this all, the Shadowhunters at the New York Institute were busy doing whatever they pleased.
Apart from one.
The blade of a Seraph swung through the air with a body moving in unison, crashing down and hitting the air, before the blur of black clothes and hair swiftly rolled forward, using the momentum to throw themselves into the air, kicking out their foot to send their body turning in a frontflip like a bullet in range of its target, before one of the feet, covered with a pristine combat boot, contacted with the marble of the training hall, the other swinging around in a full 360 circle, the blade cutting through the air like butter to a hot knife.
The movements of this blur were fluid, as the figure threw themselves about, practicing their swings before they finished with a final thrust forward of the glinting Seraph blade in their two hands, now crouching on the floor. They were the figure of a woman.
Panting from the tall female sounded about the room as she slowly stood, taking a hand away from the blade’s hilt to brush her lengthy, dark hair from her face, the sweat leaving her forehead shining.
A pair of dark eyes stared forward, her expression one of a nonchalant neutral, plump lips parted and gaze unemotional. She let the blade swing in her right hands grip, walking to the wall and going to hook the blade up, catching her breath.
She wore black training gear - a form fitted but cotton, black tank top, and fitted black leggings. Her arms, chest and back were laced and carved into with inky Runes, like markings of another language echoing through her skin.
As the tap of feet on the flooring sounded, the woman had hooked up the blade to the wall and turned, folding her arms as a blonde head of hair walked forward, figure tall like hers but male, and with toned limbs dressed in a maroon sweater and some black jeans. He furrowed his brows in concern for a few moments, speaking as the two walked up to each other, the girl panting slightly from her workout.
“You’ve been training all day, Eia.”
He sighed out as he spoke, kind eyes scanning her face. She was always in neutral, always unemotional and even after training sessions like these. She hadn’t always been this skilled. Years and years of blood and sweat and tears of the struggle of learning the combat of Shadowhunters pumped through her veins now. Some were naturals at heart, but Eia had worked her way up. She’d trained herself to mask the stress it had on her body as it did everyone. And so there she was, unemotional. But there was a hint of agitation today. A frustration he knew about.
“I got bored.”
The girl, Eia Garcia, tried to walk past the male, and he turned with her feet moving, gaze following her as he continued to follow.
“Look, I can see this is a distraction from the mission, but you’re going to break yourself down training this hard. You’re not going to find any leads with repeated demon kills that don’t need to be done right now.”
As she walked, staring forward with narrowed eyes, arms moving by her sides loosely as the two crossed the corridors from the training room, she spoke in answer to his question with an unbothered tone, her voice low in pitch and high in cold sarcasm, as usual.
“I know this is a bit hard to believe, Kingsley, but I honestly don’t give a shit.”
The male, walking with his elbow held in his hand as he walked slightly behind her, listening to her words, then frowned and spoke up.
“Eia, please.”
Eia stopped in her tracks, fluidly turning slowly on her feet to face him, muttering casually.
“I either keep training until I can’t move, or you don’t say bull to Levislen and I can go ease myself up.”
“Ease yourself up?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“Eia, you’re talking about Zerath Eloiso.”
A blank blink from Eia, before she spoke to him like the idea of the supernatural charm wasn’t dangerous.
“Again, I know.”
”It’s going to kill you if you keep using the charm for demon hunting, especially this much.”
Eia sighed and gave him a fake smile as she started to turn and continue her walk. Repeating himself seemed to be the only option, but this time with more emphasis. The girl never listened to him. Their bond was quite a strange thing that he valued. Just not at times like these, when all she ended up acting like was stubborn and self-entitled. He had to admit, this was the norm.
“It’s going to get you killed, Eia!”
“We don’t know that. Come on, grab your coat.”
Eia had taken him up to the rooms, crossing the hall to hers and pulling on a leather jacket, with Kingsley watching her in confusion.
“Why?”
No answer. His face dropped and his tone changed in worry.
“No, no, no. Eia, we’re not-“
“Are you coming, or not, King? I don’t care where you go, but I don’t have all night.”
A soft murmur of protest before the two locked eyes in her doorway, and he grumbled with a grit of teeth.
“Fine! Fine.”
As he crossed the hall to grab his coat from his room, he expressed another under the breath comment loud enough for her to hear.
”The things I do for friends.”
”That’s cute. We’re not friends.”
---
11. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I was not referred by anyone, but I found the server while searching for Roleplay Minecraft Servers of the Medieval theme.
---
Character sheet:
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Character Name: Irinei Veon
Character Age: 21
Character Race: Human.
Appearance:
Irenei Veon stands at 5’5 in height, with a slim frame and figure. She weighs 133lbs, due to a fast metabolism and not having necessary means to consume food of an expensive variety. Her hair is a dark shade of brown, and in most lights will appear black. The length is to just below her chest, though she keeps it pushed or tied back most of the time. The texture of her hair is not too dry, but one would not go out of their way to say it was luscious and silky. She does not have the means to take care of her hair to this extra extent, but she gets by with her clean but average hair. She is pale in colour, with skin that never tans but flushes pink easily from heat, cold, pressure to the skin and other factors. The female’s eyes are a deep shade of emerald/earth green that seem to be her most prominent feature upon her being.
Irinei’s clothing is not a wardrobe to be envious other, but she doesn’t mind much. She prefers comfort over expenses, and so she is usually seen in what would usually be considered a man’s style of clothing but fitted to suit her figure. She wears hunters material trousers that are form fitted to her legs, a farming shirt that she usually tucks into her hunters trousers – though she can often be seen with the fabric of the long shirt slightly unevenly tucked – which is of a light beige colour, and wears her green hunters jacket everywhere she goes as it provides warmth and comfort, and protection for her arms and torso. Finally, she can sometimes be seen with a red scarf around her neck, wrapped loosely.
Picture of the Skin:
(I have also added in the illustration comparison of what I feel that her features would look like and tone would be, to make up for the lack of quality skin photo’s.)
(I have also added in the illustration comparison of what I feel that her features would look like and tone would be, to make up for the lack of quality skin photo’s.)
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Written Test:
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The chirping of birds singing their way through the windows of the village was quite a rarity, due to the cold weather of The Northern Kingdoms. Most would have welcomed it, would have smiled as they stretched in their beds before sliding out into the day.
Irinei couldn’t have thought of a worse way to wake up.
Shoving her face further into her bedding and cringing at the bustle of people past her home, Irinei groaned out in annoyance. Waking up was always a struggle. She often felt like her body was only meant to function past mid-afternoon. The girl shoved herself up into a sitting position on her bed, eyes squinted in sleepy reluctance. It wasn’t a full work day at the literature archives for the two of them, so perhaps her brother could accept that she would like to have chosen to work later in the night and taken his shift, instead of the early morning as she always did. And so she sat and pondered how to ask him, dreading the tone of his voice she knew she would hear.
“Irin!”
That was certainly short lived. Irinei scrunched up her face as her nickname was called, her lips pushed together in distaste as she stumbled out of bed and rubbed at her eyes.
“Coming!”
“You’re going to be late, Sister!”
With a groan and huff of annoyance she started to change and shove on the clothes she prepared for the day.
“Yes, I can assume that!”
The job wasn’t boring. It wasn’t horrible, sorting through literature from scribes and scholars. It was a lucky fact that she could read – well, decently. Better than quite a few in their town, as did her twin brother Lemund. The village was small, extremely different to the larger kingdoms of the North. Irinei wasn’t interested in the village life, but she had no way to leave it behind. No sense of purpose outside the small location she called home. Overall, the job was not horrible, but the idea of the tiny job in the tiny town bored her to death. As she struggled to pull on her shirt over her head due to the sleepy nature of her being, she muttered to herself. A habit.
“I complain of not enough to see and do here, yet my body cannot even pull its self out of bed. How tragic.”
“Irinei, hurry up!”
Snapping out to the direction of her bedroom door to which the loud and hurried voice came from, she scowled with a childish annoyance to her tone. Her shirt had finally gotten its self over her head and she frantically went for her coat, and then her shoes.
“What of all bloody Divinations do you think I am /trying to do/, Lemund?!”
“Probably still trying your very hardest to get in a few more moments of slumber.”
The dark haired boy had pushed his head through the door and his scrawny fingers clasped the edges of it’s wooden frame. He raised a brow as she hopped on one foot in a desperate attempt to pull on her shoe and squabble at him all the same.
“Knock before you enter next time!”
“I will do so when you start your night of sleep earlier. Staying up until the sun rises is not a way to wake up rested, Irin.”
His lanky, tall frame leaned against the wall now, arms folded as he waited impatiently for his sister to leave. She was always late for the start of her work day and it was a rare occasion to celebrate when she wasn’t. She knew he tried to expect more of her, but with the curiosity in her blood mixed with the lazy nature of her grandfather, Irinei was often a lost cause to herself and not just her brother.
“Keep your sour gob shut, Lemon.”
She frowned, pulling on the sack from her bedside and walking to her brother’s side, glancing up at him. Lemon was a nickname too. Lemund and Lemon sounded quite familiar, so using this to her advantage was the normality in this household of two.
“Do not be late again. Hm?”
A small brotherly kiss was placed on the crown of Irinei’s head before she headed down the hallway, pulling on her hood with a small smirk – mischievous and far from innocent - soon playing at her lips while his question echoed in her ears.
“I shall try. Do not expect promises, Brother!”
And with that, Irinei rushed out her front door and into the cold morning of her village, hood pulled up from the chill. This was a simple life, and she knew she wanted more than the stale smell of parchment and ink.
But with what was to come, Irinei would finally get what she had been wishing for. However, this wish was far from how she expected it to be done. She never expected that the village entrance was soon to be taken over by things some would describe as monstrous.
She never knew her life would change, and though she cannot tell if it was for the better, she does know one thing. That wishes can be granted, but they can chill colder than The Northern Kingdoms ripped from warm blooded grasps and into undead palms.
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