toastertroodle
Loyal Servant of Altera
The Whitelist Application Form
1. What is your Minecraft username?
toastertroodle
2. How old are you?
18
3. What country are you from? What is your timezone?
United States. EST.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yes!
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is taking information learned out of character and using that information in character. Powergaming is making yourself unbeatable by means of an overpowered action or by not giving your opponent the opportunity to counter that action.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No!
7. Tell us about yourself! Do you have any examples of your work?
Hello! I'm Cam'ron. I actually used to play on this server quite a bit a few years ago. The reason I'm making a completely new application and not a re-app is because so much has changed and I feel like it'd be a cheat. Hope that's okay. Since leaving the server I have A) entered high school, B) dropped out of high school, C) received a GED, and D) enrolled at community college. My favorite song at the moment is MONTERO by Lil Nas X and I mean that unironically. I've been trying to get into anime but I don't really think it's my speed. Regardless, I'm currently binging Attack on Titan and The Ancient Magus' Bride. I'm big into true crime. I'm convinced that the very much still alive Jodi Arias is haunting me. I think The Picture of Dorian Gray is the highest achievement in the history of literature. Super excited to play on here.
8. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
A guy called Blorbis originally recommended it to me.
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Character Name:
Winmarc Darcy
Character Age:
22
Character Race:
Human
Appearance:
Winmarc is a tall, lanky man of a dark complexion. His hair is matted and locked from years of neglect. It is styled with golden beads and a single carnation in the new growth. He is conventionally attractive and has been known to boast this to his confidants.
Written Test!
Winmarc Darcy was attending the funeral of his father. He knew he wasn't welcome, being the outcast, the only bastard child of the low ranking nobleman. And so a disguise was in order. The disguise, of course, looked as out of place as one who knew Winmarc would expect. The long locs of hair were hard to hide. He had ditched his usual carnation, a floral affair and, while he was not Sangrian, a tradition of the culture he rather appreciated. While his father was being lowered into the grave, he counted all the things he had said to him face to face.
“You're going away, Winmarc. Boarding school. If anyone asks –”
“Oi,” Winmarc heard a call behind his right shoulder. “Is that who I think it is.?
He spun round only to be greeted by the sight of Tommy. A ball star in his own right, stinking of privilege, but not the worst of his half-siblings, Tommy was an intimidating sight to others. Wide shoulders, six foot four, legs like tree trunks and rugged good looks.
“Should have known you'd sneak in here,” Tommy chuckled.
“Had to see the old man one last time,” said Winmarc. “Think they'd mind if I spat into the grave?”
“Might want to hold off on that.” Tommy suddenly hushed, and leaned in close. Winmarc was surprised, but went with it.
“Meet me in the Lion and Hare after, not the one these are all going to, mind. We better discuss dear old dad in private.”
“Alright,” said Winmarc..
“And you weren't here, alright?”
“Alright.”
“If anyone asks, you're an orphan.” That was certainly the most said in one session, outside of threatening letters and other such beloved communication.
Tommy looked comical spread out in a booth close to the bar. Each chair appeared as if it was made for a child. Winmarc was tall and skinny, not as much muscle, but certainly the chairs fit him fine, if a bit small. Tommy was playing with dollhouse furniture by comparison.
“A pint of bitter,” he called to the barmaid, and motioned to Winmarc. “And whatever he wants.”
Winmarc approached the bar and clarified that he'd have a top-shelf brandy, neat with a glass of water on the side.
He then walked to Tommy, drinks in hand. Tommy took his and immediately gulped half in a single swig.
“Thirsty, Tommy?”
“Funerals do tend to make one thirsty, of a sort.”
“Well then, why am I here?”
Tommy deflected the point. “Mimicking dad, I see?” He pointed at the brandy.
“They were out of the fifty year reserve.”
“Ah, that was his favorite.” Tommy paused and stared at the glass, vacant. His fair skin and blue eyes would have made for a handsome statue, deep in thought.
He snapped himself out of it, shaking his head.
“Right. You have friends around Altera, yes? You're close with the Sangrians?”
“More or less.” Winmarc took a sip. “A lot of the sailors are after the same things.”
“I dunno if you know this, but it was a dispute with some Sangrians that led Dad into the ground. Led by a dwarf, Reldon. He's the merchant that holds all the unruly ships together.”
“I've heard the name.” Another sip.
“Right, of course. Well, it wasn't just Reldon, or I'd round up the lads and set him on fire. No, he's bankrolled by a splinter group from the merchant's guild. The Gold Hand.”
“I've definitely heard that name.”
“Well then, what do you know?”
“The Gold Hand.” Winmarc savored the words, then put his hand under his chin, leaning over the table. “Elven connections, rumored to do trade with Makani. They launder gemstones stolen from the dwarven mines, they sail in Sangrian alcohol and women to fill the brothels. They also don't hire outside help; they have their own mercenary group that are handpicked right out of whatever global conflict they bankroll, at least in part.”
“Gods, I didn't know all that.” Tommy looked despondent. “They're that big?”
“They’ve made a name for themselves.”
“Kraken's ass..” Tommy downed the rest of his pint. “I thought it'd be more simple. But going up against them? No thank you.” He stood up. “Not me. I wanna live for a while longer.”
Winmarc downed his drink and stood up to match. “Nice meeting you, Tommy.”
“Nice meeting you too. If you need anything – I'm guessing you weren't in the will – come to me. The other fuckers – I mean, dear, dear siblings – would sooner crucify you or sell you for animal feed.”
“I appreciate it, Tommy. Safe travels.”
Later that night, Winmarc couldn't sleep. What was dad doing in bed with The Golden Hand? He kept tossing and turning, the question whirring through his mind like an errant cog. It can't have been just currency. Merchants in this city don't kill for currency. They preferred to lock the indebted in financial slavery. No, it had to have been either a job, or an asset, something less calculable.
And yet, there was no easy answer. Winmarc slept when the sun came up, his body hitting the reset button, knowing that today, like every day, would be a long one. Handsome and calm in the rising sunlight, knowing peace in the only way he could, Winmarc slept until the afternoon, any thoughts of conspiracy and murder far away from his mind.
1. What is your Minecraft username?
toastertroodle
2. How old are you?
18
3. What country are you from? What is your timezone?
United States. EST.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yes!
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is taking information learned out of character and using that information in character. Powergaming is making yourself unbeatable by means of an overpowered action or by not giving your opponent the opportunity to counter that action.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No!
7. Tell us about yourself! Do you have any examples of your work?
Hello! I'm Cam'ron. I actually used to play on this server quite a bit a few years ago. The reason I'm making a completely new application and not a re-app is because so much has changed and I feel like it'd be a cheat. Hope that's okay. Since leaving the server I have A) entered high school, B) dropped out of high school, C) received a GED, and D) enrolled at community college. My favorite song at the moment is MONTERO by Lil Nas X and I mean that unironically. I've been trying to get into anime but I don't really think it's my speed. Regardless, I'm currently binging Attack on Titan and The Ancient Magus' Bride. I'm big into true crime. I'm convinced that the very much still alive Jodi Arias is haunting me. I think The Picture of Dorian Gray is the highest achievement in the history of literature. Super excited to play on here.
8. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
A guy called Blorbis originally recommended it to me.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Character Name:
Winmarc Darcy
Character Age:
22
Character Race:
Human
Appearance:
Winmarc is a tall, lanky man of a dark complexion. His hair is matted and locked from years of neglect. It is styled with golden beads and a single carnation in the new growth. He is conventionally attractive and has been known to boast this to his confidants.
Written Test!
Winmarc Darcy was attending the funeral of his father. He knew he wasn't welcome, being the outcast, the only bastard child of the low ranking nobleman. And so a disguise was in order. The disguise, of course, looked as out of place as one who knew Winmarc would expect. The long locs of hair were hard to hide. He had ditched his usual carnation, a floral affair and, while he was not Sangrian, a tradition of the culture he rather appreciated. While his father was being lowered into the grave, he counted all the things he had said to him face to face.
“You're going away, Winmarc. Boarding school. If anyone asks –”
“Oi,” Winmarc heard a call behind his right shoulder. “Is that who I think it is.?
He spun round only to be greeted by the sight of Tommy. A ball star in his own right, stinking of privilege, but not the worst of his half-siblings, Tommy was an intimidating sight to others. Wide shoulders, six foot four, legs like tree trunks and rugged good looks.
“Should have known you'd sneak in here,” Tommy chuckled.
“Had to see the old man one last time,” said Winmarc. “Think they'd mind if I spat into the grave?”
“Might want to hold off on that.” Tommy suddenly hushed, and leaned in close. Winmarc was surprised, but went with it.
“Meet me in the Lion and Hare after, not the one these are all going to, mind. We better discuss dear old dad in private.”
“Alright,” said Winmarc..
“And you weren't here, alright?”
“Alright.”
“If anyone asks, you're an orphan.” That was certainly the most said in one session, outside of threatening letters and other such beloved communication.
Tommy looked comical spread out in a booth close to the bar. Each chair appeared as if it was made for a child. Winmarc was tall and skinny, not as much muscle, but certainly the chairs fit him fine, if a bit small. Tommy was playing with dollhouse furniture by comparison.
“A pint of bitter,” he called to the barmaid, and motioned to Winmarc. “And whatever he wants.”
Winmarc approached the bar and clarified that he'd have a top-shelf brandy, neat with a glass of water on the side.
He then walked to Tommy, drinks in hand. Tommy took his and immediately gulped half in a single swig.
“Thirsty, Tommy?”
“Funerals do tend to make one thirsty, of a sort.”
“Well then, why am I here?”
Tommy deflected the point. “Mimicking dad, I see?” He pointed at the brandy.
“They were out of the fifty year reserve.”
“Ah, that was his favorite.” Tommy paused and stared at the glass, vacant. His fair skin and blue eyes would have made for a handsome statue, deep in thought.
He snapped himself out of it, shaking his head.
“Right. You have friends around Altera, yes? You're close with the Sangrians?”
“More or less.” Winmarc took a sip. “A lot of the sailors are after the same things.”
“I dunno if you know this, but it was a dispute with some Sangrians that led Dad into the ground. Led by a dwarf, Reldon. He's the merchant that holds all the unruly ships together.”
“I've heard the name.” Another sip.
“Right, of course. Well, it wasn't just Reldon, or I'd round up the lads and set him on fire. No, he's bankrolled by a splinter group from the merchant's guild. The Gold Hand.”
“I've definitely heard that name.”
“Well then, what do you know?”
“The Gold Hand.” Winmarc savored the words, then put his hand under his chin, leaning over the table. “Elven connections, rumored to do trade with Makani. They launder gemstones stolen from the dwarven mines, they sail in Sangrian alcohol and women to fill the brothels. They also don't hire outside help; they have their own mercenary group that are handpicked right out of whatever global conflict they bankroll, at least in part.”
“Gods, I didn't know all that.” Tommy looked despondent. “They're that big?”
“They’ve made a name for themselves.”
“Kraken's ass..” Tommy downed the rest of his pint. “I thought it'd be more simple. But going up against them? No thank you.” He stood up. “Not me. I wanna live for a while longer.”
Winmarc downed his drink and stood up to match. “Nice meeting you, Tommy.”
“Nice meeting you too. If you need anything – I'm guessing you weren't in the will – come to me. The other fuckers – I mean, dear, dear siblings – would sooner crucify you or sell you for animal feed.”
“I appreciate it, Tommy. Safe travels.”
Later that night, Winmarc couldn't sleep. What was dad doing in bed with The Golden Hand? He kept tossing and turning, the question whirring through his mind like an errant cog. It can't have been just currency. Merchants in this city don't kill for currency. They preferred to lock the indebted in financial slavery. No, it had to have been either a job, or an asset, something less calculable.
And yet, there was no easy answer. Winmarc slept when the sun came up, his body hitting the reset button, knowing that today, like every day, would be a long one. Handsome and calm in the rising sunlight, knowing peace in the only way he could, Winmarc slept until the afternoon, any thoughts of conspiracy and murder far away from his mind.
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