BoltThrower
Villager
snakegotcake
Minecraft Username: snakegotcake
Age: 20
Country & Timezone: Eastern/Central
Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes
Define Metagaming & Powergaming?: Metagaming is using OOC knowledge ICly without gaining that knowledge ICly. Powergaming is acting beyond your character's limits and imposing another player's reaction before they have any say. Both diminish the fun in roleplay and often prematurely extinguish it.
Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No
Tell us about yourself!: I'm not good at talking about myself with fluidity but I enjoy hiking, shooting, land navigation, and military surplus. When I'm at home I'm either writing, drawing, listening to metal, or playing RPGs with my friends. I enjoy some tabletop games, particularly Scythe. I enjoy cooking and baking as well. I have particular interest in taking things apart and figuring out how they work (keyboards and modding them, building guns, etc!). I also have a special interest in astronomy, horror, anatomy, dermatology, and mathematics. I have advanced pre-pharm college education and enjoy medical roleplay. I worked in a haunted house as a method actress for about 5 years around Halloween time and always enjoy the macabre. My voice is flat but I promise I'm not as angry or as bored as I ever sound.
Referral: Morpheus_Dream , but I played many many years ago!
________________________________________
{Character Section}
Character Name: Cain Eldrik
Age: 17
Race: Human, either Daoine or Anhalder. Once decided ICly I will adjust this.
Appearance: Standing at a meagre 4'11", Cain Eldrik looks worse for wear. The lithe ballerina could use an extra meal or two, certainly. Her skin is a ceramic white, and even the last of Cain’s freckles have disappeared from childhood. A faint, faint tattoo in white crosses over her nose’s bridge. The language is incomprehensible. Her skin is fairly translucent, resulting in a swatch of sleepy lavender underneath her eyes. Her ebon locks are truly her crowning feature, measuring at an excessive thirty inches and continuing to grow. Typically, Cain's eyes rest at a narrowed almond's shape. As of recent events, however, Cain's eyes are owlish and paranoid to the world around her. Her irises are a crystalline blue, pale yellow nodules interrupting it. Cain does not often smile, and her lachrymose brows anoint her in a morose aura.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Cain will be arriving to Altera in a long, striped nightgown with an embroidery on its front. Her hair will be undone to her dismay and she will be with socks, but without shoes. Certainly no fashion show yet.
Written Test (Min: 400 words): To preface, this is extracted from a Dungeon Master's guide that I wrote for someone that never wound up doing the event. I'm changing the name of any involved characters for privacy's sake. I'm modifying it as I go to include some bits of my favorite lore! I'm hoping this can showcase my ability to convey emotions, dialogue, and reactions.
Lastly, there are mentions of blood but no descriptions of gore.
---
Ephraim stirred to consciousness on cold stone. The visceral silage of copper fiercely hit his nose as an orange lantern sparked to life above him. Its grisly ochre light revealed a stream of blood seeping through the crack underneath a door leading out of the room.
The river changed direction with every brick it ran into, descending towards the centre of the room. Ephraim slowly pushed himself up from the floor with a groan before turning his chin towards the blood's destination. A large grate took in the river. Ephraim could hear that the liquid was draining into a much larger chasm far, far beneath him.
Suddenly, someone began knocking at the door. The belaboring was desperate, hard. It turned into slamming, and a familiar woman started to scream. Ephraim, try as he might, was not able to open the door.
"Enoch?" Ephraim would suddenly rasp. Enoch very seldom spoke, but something instinctual talked for Ephraim before he had time to think.
"Ephraim?" She would suddenly, stiffly ask, "What are you doing here?" Her voice was muffled considerably through the heavy iron and oak door. Enoch's tongue was entirely foreign, but Ephraim would find himself understanding every word. A brief warmth would coax life into him again. It did not linger.
Behind Ephraim, the lantern began to crackle. It slowly shifted from a burnt orange to a deep sienna. The man's shoulders went taut before he turned to face the abnormality. The lantern was trembling as though the earth were quaking.
"Ephraim? Is it really-" Enoch's breathy, daydreaming tone seemed entirely separated from her screaming mere moments before, but she was interrupted.
The rusty grate in the centre of the room began to squeal, the metal grinding into the stone as it slid to the side. A disturbing silence ensued, broken only by Enoch timidly asking from behind the door, "...Ephraim?"
An infernal groan shook the room, trembling Ephraim's very core. Leathery and dense arms emerged from the opened pit. An oxidised and viscous sludge perpetually flowed over the muscular forearms as they hauled the rest of a body out of the chasm. In its right hand was a heavy cleaver, anointed in blood all the same. A rotten smell filled the room. The very human hands would reveal an entirely porcine head atop an abnormally thick neck. Its tusked maw was permanently agape, and its human eyes stared blankly past Ephraim. The same putrid substance slicks its entire being. As the beast whipped the cleaver down to flick the sheen of blood off of its rusting blade, a tumultuous and guttural cloak escaped its open mouth. It conveyed nothing but horror in existing at all. A powerful pair of hooved legs brought it to stand at a bulky seven feet.
It was hard to imagine it as either fully boar or human. The harrowing croak prolonged itself, and was now evolving into a roar. The blanket of opaque, oxidising blood only began to clear around its mouth and eyes.
As flight or fight began arguing in Ephraim's head, he turned his chin over his shoulder to spy that the door had ceased to exist, and effectively separated him and his sororal Enoch. Frozen with fear, Ephraim's hands slithered in serpentine for whatever was on his persons before adrenaline sprang him to a preparative backtracking. He corrected his grip on his estoc and awaited his and the beast's inevitable collision as it began to charge.
((I am omitting the CRP portion as I only just now scrolled down to read the portion about not having a violent test... and time skipping to a more peaceful moment in the same event!))
Covered in swine, brine, and sweat alike, Ephraim's chest rose and fell in terrified, ragged breaths. His sense of accomplishment was entirely smothered in lingering adrenaline and fear. For a moment of respite, The Anhalder dropped to his knees and released his estoc to hold his head, calloused and dirtied digits raking through his dark cropped hair.
After a slow regaining of what little reality there was to spare in this plane, Ephraim brought his head back. His eyes desperately searched for his beloved sun, but he found only gore-splattered stone. As his mind's racing came to a stop, Ephraim stood himself back up and swiped his estoc to return it to its sheath.
Just before he stepped to the grate as a final effort at escape, he looked back at the illusive door. It had returned! A breath of life was blown into him and he staggered for it, lest it dissolved from his grasp again. Praise be to the sun, he surely thought as the door opened without struggle.
Upon opening the door, Ephraim found himself at home. It was whitened with hoarfrost, and small crystal formations encrusted pillars, books, and any other inorganic surfaces. His breath visibly plumed in the brumal air, and the blood that once coated him faded to snowflakes that would ember behind him. Ephraim felt his stresses melt away with the snowflakes as he spies his sister safely curled atop her bed despite the hyperborean conditions.
Enoch was still lost in the dreams that Ephraim had escaped, it seemed. Her lashes were frosted white, and her lips were tinged blue much like her nose and fingers. In a moment of fear, Ephraim decided to observe for a moment. Clouded breath escaped Enoch only a handful of times per minute. Every other breath, she began to freckle her nightgown with a bloody cough.
The sturdy Anhalder softened as he saw his own ilk suffer beyond his control. His jaw clenched and he swallowed visibly before sitting on the bed beside his beloved younger sister. Despite the horrors he had seen, this scared him the most. His duties as a warrior had never gone unfulfilled, but it was now that he felt his fraternal rites were at risk.
"In the Month of Frost," he muttered with disbelief, finding something grave in her circumstances. "Is this a sick jest?" After drawing in a breath, Ephraim would reach and rest his heavy hand on Enoch's shoulder.
Seconds after, a twinkling noise began to resonate quietly throughout the home before sounding off with the shattering of glass. Everything began to return to normalcy: Enoch's body regained livelihood, Ephraim no longer felt the fatigue of restless battles in nightmares, and the house was siphoned of its wintry environment.
Enoch gasped and rose from the bed to Ephraim at her side, unable to catch her breath for a few moments before deciding to weep. She reached for her brother and collapsed against him. Ephraim was never a stranger to Enoch's recurring night terrors, but had never considered anything like this.
As restless as the night had been for him, he took up a new goal to comfort his sister. He cradled her in hopes to coax her into a more suitable rest than before, gaze eastward towards the window. Desperately, he awaited the return of the sun on the horizon.
Age: 20
Country & Timezone: Eastern/Central
Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes
Define Metagaming & Powergaming?: Metagaming is using OOC knowledge ICly without gaining that knowledge ICly. Powergaming is acting beyond your character's limits and imposing another player's reaction before they have any say. Both diminish the fun in roleplay and often prematurely extinguish it.
Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No
Tell us about yourself!: I'm not good at talking about myself with fluidity but I enjoy hiking, shooting, land navigation, and military surplus. When I'm at home I'm either writing, drawing, listening to metal, or playing RPGs with my friends. I enjoy some tabletop games, particularly Scythe. I enjoy cooking and baking as well. I have particular interest in taking things apart and figuring out how they work (keyboards and modding them, building guns, etc!). I also have a special interest in astronomy, horror, anatomy, dermatology, and mathematics. I have advanced pre-pharm college education and enjoy medical roleplay. I worked in a haunted house as a method actress for about 5 years around Halloween time and always enjoy the macabre. My voice is flat but I promise I'm not as angry or as bored as I ever sound.
Referral: Morpheus_Dream , but I played many many years ago!
________________________________________
{Character Section}
Character Name: Cain Eldrik
Age: 17
Race: Human, either Daoine or Anhalder. Once decided ICly I will adjust this.
Appearance: Standing at a meagre 4'11", Cain Eldrik looks worse for wear. The lithe ballerina could use an extra meal or two, certainly. Her skin is a ceramic white, and even the last of Cain’s freckles have disappeared from childhood. A faint, faint tattoo in white crosses over her nose’s bridge. The language is incomprehensible. Her skin is fairly translucent, resulting in a swatch of sleepy lavender underneath her eyes. Her ebon locks are truly her crowning feature, measuring at an excessive thirty inches and continuing to grow. Typically, Cain's eyes rest at a narrowed almond's shape. As of recent events, however, Cain's eyes are owlish and paranoid to the world around her. Her irises are a crystalline blue, pale yellow nodules interrupting it. Cain does not often smile, and her lachrymose brows anoint her in a morose aura.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Cain will be arriving to Altera in a long, striped nightgown with an embroidery on its front. Her hair will be undone to her dismay and she will be with socks, but without shoes. Certainly no fashion show yet.
Written Test (Min: 400 words): To preface, this is extracted from a Dungeon Master's guide that I wrote for someone that never wound up doing the event. I'm changing the name of any involved characters for privacy's sake. I'm modifying it as I go to include some bits of my favorite lore! I'm hoping this can showcase my ability to convey emotions, dialogue, and reactions.
Lastly, there are mentions of blood but no descriptions of gore.---
Ephraim stirred to consciousness on cold stone. The visceral silage of copper fiercely hit his nose as an orange lantern sparked to life above him. Its grisly ochre light revealed a stream of blood seeping through the crack underneath a door leading out of the room.
The river changed direction with every brick it ran into, descending towards the centre of the room. Ephraim slowly pushed himself up from the floor with a groan before turning his chin towards the blood's destination. A large grate took in the river. Ephraim could hear that the liquid was draining into a much larger chasm far, far beneath him.
Suddenly, someone began knocking at the door. The belaboring was desperate, hard. It turned into slamming, and a familiar woman started to scream. Ephraim, try as he might, was not able to open the door.
"Enoch?" Ephraim would suddenly rasp. Enoch very seldom spoke, but something instinctual talked for Ephraim before he had time to think.
"Ephraim?" She would suddenly, stiffly ask, "What are you doing here?" Her voice was muffled considerably through the heavy iron and oak door. Enoch's tongue was entirely foreign, but Ephraim would find himself understanding every word. A brief warmth would coax life into him again. It did not linger.
Behind Ephraim, the lantern began to crackle. It slowly shifted from a burnt orange to a deep sienna. The man's shoulders went taut before he turned to face the abnormality. The lantern was trembling as though the earth were quaking.
"Ephraim? Is it really-" Enoch's breathy, daydreaming tone seemed entirely separated from her screaming mere moments before, but she was interrupted.
The rusty grate in the centre of the room began to squeal, the metal grinding into the stone as it slid to the side. A disturbing silence ensued, broken only by Enoch timidly asking from behind the door, "...Ephraim?"
An infernal groan shook the room, trembling Ephraim's very core. Leathery and dense arms emerged from the opened pit. An oxidised and viscous sludge perpetually flowed over the muscular forearms as they hauled the rest of a body out of the chasm. In its right hand was a heavy cleaver, anointed in blood all the same. A rotten smell filled the room. The very human hands would reveal an entirely porcine head atop an abnormally thick neck. Its tusked maw was permanently agape, and its human eyes stared blankly past Ephraim. The same putrid substance slicks its entire being. As the beast whipped the cleaver down to flick the sheen of blood off of its rusting blade, a tumultuous and guttural cloak escaped its open mouth. It conveyed nothing but horror in existing at all. A powerful pair of hooved legs brought it to stand at a bulky seven feet.
It was hard to imagine it as either fully boar or human. The harrowing croak prolonged itself, and was now evolving into a roar. The blanket of opaque, oxidising blood only began to clear around its mouth and eyes.
As flight or fight began arguing in Ephraim's head, he turned his chin over his shoulder to spy that the door had ceased to exist, and effectively separated him and his sororal Enoch. Frozen with fear, Ephraim's hands slithered in serpentine for whatever was on his persons before adrenaline sprang him to a preparative backtracking. He corrected his grip on his estoc and awaited his and the beast's inevitable collision as it began to charge.
((I am omitting the CRP portion as I only just now scrolled down to read the portion about not having a violent test... and time skipping to a more peaceful moment in the same event!))
Covered in swine, brine, and sweat alike, Ephraim's chest rose and fell in terrified, ragged breaths. His sense of accomplishment was entirely smothered in lingering adrenaline and fear. For a moment of respite, The Anhalder dropped to his knees and released his estoc to hold his head, calloused and dirtied digits raking through his dark cropped hair.
After a slow regaining of what little reality there was to spare in this plane, Ephraim brought his head back. His eyes desperately searched for his beloved sun, but he found only gore-splattered stone. As his mind's racing came to a stop, Ephraim stood himself back up and swiped his estoc to return it to its sheath.
Just before he stepped to the grate as a final effort at escape, he looked back at the illusive door. It had returned! A breath of life was blown into him and he staggered for it, lest it dissolved from his grasp again. Praise be to the sun, he surely thought as the door opened without struggle.
Upon opening the door, Ephraim found himself at home. It was whitened with hoarfrost, and small crystal formations encrusted pillars, books, and any other inorganic surfaces. His breath visibly plumed in the brumal air, and the blood that once coated him faded to snowflakes that would ember behind him. Ephraim felt his stresses melt away with the snowflakes as he spies his sister safely curled atop her bed despite the hyperborean conditions.
Enoch was still lost in the dreams that Ephraim had escaped, it seemed. Her lashes were frosted white, and her lips were tinged blue much like her nose and fingers. In a moment of fear, Ephraim decided to observe for a moment. Clouded breath escaped Enoch only a handful of times per minute. Every other breath, she began to freckle her nightgown with a bloody cough.
The sturdy Anhalder softened as he saw his own ilk suffer beyond his control. His jaw clenched and he swallowed visibly before sitting on the bed beside his beloved younger sister. Despite the horrors he had seen, this scared him the most. His duties as a warrior had never gone unfulfilled, but it was now that he felt his fraternal rites were at risk.
"In the Month of Frost," he muttered with disbelief, finding something grave in her circumstances. "Is this a sick jest?" After drawing in a breath, Ephraim would reach and rest his heavy hand on Enoch's shoulder.
Seconds after, a twinkling noise began to resonate quietly throughout the home before sounding off with the shattering of glass. Everything began to return to normalcy: Enoch's body regained livelihood, Ephraim no longer felt the fatigue of restless battles in nightmares, and the house was siphoned of its wintry environment.
Enoch gasped and rose from the bed to Ephraim at her side, unable to catch her breath for a few moments before deciding to weep. She reached for her brother and collapsed against him. Ephraim was never a stranger to Enoch's recurring night terrors, but had never considered anything like this.
As restless as the night had been for him, he took up a new goal to comfort his sister. He cradled her in hopes to coax her into a more suitable rest than before, gaze eastward towards the window. Desperately, he awaited the return of the sun on the horizon.
