- Pronouns
- They/Them
tomtomgags
Villager
About You!
Reapplying after being gone for awhile.
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Tomtomgags
2. How old are you?
16
3. What country are you from?
USA
4. Have you read the King's Law, Tome of Citizenship, Official Lore, and the Survival Guides yet?
Yes. I've browsed through some of the new lore, and will look at the rest while this is pending.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Using information your character does not or should not have, especially to your advantage. Acting perfectly so others cannot challenge you, again usually with skills your character does not have.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Tell us about yourself!
My name is Caleb, from the US. I enjoy writing and rping, and play in alot of tabletops. I enjoy TBS games and CRPGs ( Including Pillars of Eternity, I'm looking at you Animancy.) I also just finished The Banner Saga 2, which tops my favorite games. And I enjoy occult horror, like Lovecraft.
8. Do you have any examples of your work?
I doodle, here's flappers the mermun.
9. Did anyone refer you?
My bookmarks, which reminded HW existed.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Treecarver
Character Age:
Fifty Two, 52
Character Race:
Lighthorn, Caparii. (Perhaps with a mix of Red.)
Appearance:
(We just want to make sure things like hair color, eye color, skin color, and clothing is all fitting for the setting/lore we have.)
Treecarver stands at about five feet and eight inches, give or take. With long, dark black hair. His hair is generally unkempt, but with a well cared for and braided beard. Rather than traditional clothing, he wears a simple loincloth and wraps his torso in two long stoles of green and yellow which tuck under his belt, each with large, but thin, metal hoops attached to either end. His face is chiseled like many caparii, and two simple horns grow out from his thick forehead, reaching just a mere inch or two above his hair line. His eyes are a light, fading brown. He is slim, and lightly muscled.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Not yet.
Written Test!
Hunting, climbing from tree to tree, Treecarver has always kept himself to solitude. He might extra furs to travelers for anything he couldn't get from the forest, or perhaps shelter from the harshest winters. Otherwise, Treecarver held the other races in disdain, including society as a whole. Never would he show himself to trespassers in his land, and would rather hide and wait for them to leave. And if they spotted him, he would make it clear he had no interest in them. Yet one event changed his mind on man and their, and softened his heart.
Treecarver sat beneath one of his favorite oak trees upon a hill, napping in its shade, spear across his lap. Blissful silence, the tranquil forest was particularly quiet that day. Quiet, until his ear twitched to a distant crying. He tried to ignore it, yet for minutes thereafter it continued. So he pushed himself off from the ground with the help of his spear, and scanned the treeline for the sound, and followed it. He had only but wander to the nearest clearing to find the source. A young girl sat beneath a tree stump, admits a field of dandelions and tulips. Her face wet with tears, staining her blue summer dress. Treecarver grunted and rolled his eyes, and walked toward her.
"Wa's ye'r problem, whelp?" He spat, tightening his fist around his spear.
The girl but screamed, seeing the rugged goatman with a spear in hand. She started to run, and tumbled over a brook half way across the clearing.
"Please don't hurt me, goatmonster!" She cried, her summer dress now soiled in mud as she cowered under Treecarvers approaching shadow.
"'M not a goatmonster. 'M Treecarver. You lost 'r something? Where's the grunskin that spawned y', whelp?" Treecarver asks while pulling the little human girl to her feet, so forcefully that it leaves a red sore on her wrist.
"Ow! That hurts!" She shouts, rubbing her wrist, "I'm not lost, go away! My daddies strong, he'll beat you up if you don't go away!"
Treecarver rolls his eyes and grunts, "Don't want help, fine, bye." He says as begins walking off.
"Wait! No... maybe I am lost. If Treecarver wants to help... I lost mommy and daddy on the trail." The child starts, staring at the ground.
With a sigh, Treecarver stops, turns, and walks past her in the other direction, "This way, whelp. Take you to closest trail, if your kin arenay there, Treecarver leave you there anyway."
After a little under an hour, Treecarver guides the girl safely to a trail near the edge of the forest, ignoring any of her attempts to start a conversation. Met by a group of men along the trail, near a landslide which must have been cause of the girls separation, the child runs to them. She's met by the open embrace of her crying mother. Without another word, refusing all attempts of the people's thanks, Treecarver wanders back into the forest, to continue his long quiet life.
Returning to that spot, weeks later, Treecarver finds a small carving of himself walking with the girl etched against a tree. For the first time in his life, forty years at this point, he's felt a tinge of pride for helping a human, and fails to hold back a smile. He draws a knife and carves his trusty spear in his other hand on the tree, then takes a look around and remembers how the girl got lost. From then on, he decided to carve signs onto trees to point any who might get lost in the woods back toward the path, crude carvings of himself or the little girl pointing, including other landmarks in the woods to help them. Others passing through the forest from the nearby village began to do the same, and they formed a silent tradition of marking the forest so that nobody would get lost again.
Eventually, it was practically impossible to get lost in the forest, and without needing to mark any more carvings, or seeing others mark the land, he felt a strange emptiness inside. Perhaps there is more out there than just this forest that's worth seeing, he thought. Others to help, he thought. So he left his forest, years after helping the girl, to explore and help where he could.
Reapplying after being gone for awhile.
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Tomtomgags
2. How old are you?
16
3. What country are you from?
USA
4. Have you read the King's Law, Tome of Citizenship, Official Lore, and the Survival Guides yet?
Yes. I've browsed through some of the new lore, and will look at the rest while this is pending.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Using information your character does not or should not have, especially to your advantage. Acting perfectly so others cannot challenge you, again usually with skills your character does not have.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Tell us about yourself!
My name is Caleb, from the US. I enjoy writing and rping, and play in alot of tabletops. I enjoy TBS games and CRPGs ( Including Pillars of Eternity, I'm looking at you Animancy.) I also just finished The Banner Saga 2, which tops my favorite games. And I enjoy occult horror, like Lovecraft.
8. Do you have any examples of your work?
I doodle, here's flappers the mermun.
9. Did anyone refer you?
My bookmarks, which reminded HW existed.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Treecarver
Character Age:
Fifty Two, 52
Character Race:
Lighthorn, Caparii. (Perhaps with a mix of Red.)
Appearance:
(We just want to make sure things like hair color, eye color, skin color, and clothing is all fitting for the setting/lore we have.)
Treecarver stands at about five feet and eight inches, give or take. With long, dark black hair. His hair is generally unkempt, but with a well cared for and braided beard. Rather than traditional clothing, he wears a simple loincloth and wraps his torso in two long stoles of green and yellow which tuck under his belt, each with large, but thin, metal hoops attached to either end. His face is chiseled like many caparii, and two simple horns grow out from his thick forehead, reaching just a mere inch or two above his hair line. His eyes are a light, fading brown. He is slim, and lightly muscled.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Not yet.
Written Test!
Hunting, climbing from tree to tree, Treecarver has always kept himself to solitude. He might extra furs to travelers for anything he couldn't get from the forest, or perhaps shelter from the harshest winters. Otherwise, Treecarver held the other races in disdain, including society as a whole. Never would he show himself to trespassers in his land, and would rather hide and wait for them to leave. And if they spotted him, he would make it clear he had no interest in them. Yet one event changed his mind on man and their, and softened his heart.
Treecarver sat beneath one of his favorite oak trees upon a hill, napping in its shade, spear across his lap. Blissful silence, the tranquil forest was particularly quiet that day. Quiet, until his ear twitched to a distant crying. He tried to ignore it, yet for minutes thereafter it continued. So he pushed himself off from the ground with the help of his spear, and scanned the treeline for the sound, and followed it. He had only but wander to the nearest clearing to find the source. A young girl sat beneath a tree stump, admits a field of dandelions and tulips. Her face wet with tears, staining her blue summer dress. Treecarver grunted and rolled his eyes, and walked toward her.
"Wa's ye'r problem, whelp?" He spat, tightening his fist around his spear.
The girl but screamed, seeing the rugged goatman with a spear in hand. She started to run, and tumbled over a brook half way across the clearing.
"Please don't hurt me, goatmonster!" She cried, her summer dress now soiled in mud as she cowered under Treecarvers approaching shadow.
"'M not a goatmonster. 'M Treecarver. You lost 'r something? Where's the grunskin that spawned y', whelp?" Treecarver asks while pulling the little human girl to her feet, so forcefully that it leaves a red sore on her wrist.
"Ow! That hurts!" She shouts, rubbing her wrist, "I'm not lost, go away! My daddies strong, he'll beat you up if you don't go away!"
Treecarver rolls his eyes and grunts, "Don't want help, fine, bye." He says as begins walking off.
"Wait! No... maybe I am lost. If Treecarver wants to help... I lost mommy and daddy on the trail." The child starts, staring at the ground.
With a sigh, Treecarver stops, turns, and walks past her in the other direction, "This way, whelp. Take you to closest trail, if your kin arenay there, Treecarver leave you there anyway."
After a little under an hour, Treecarver guides the girl safely to a trail near the edge of the forest, ignoring any of her attempts to start a conversation. Met by a group of men along the trail, near a landslide which must have been cause of the girls separation, the child runs to them. She's met by the open embrace of her crying mother. Without another word, refusing all attempts of the people's thanks, Treecarver wanders back into the forest, to continue his long quiet life.
Returning to that spot, weeks later, Treecarver finds a small carving of himself walking with the girl etched against a tree. For the first time in his life, forty years at this point, he's felt a tinge of pride for helping a human, and fails to hold back a smile. He draws a knife and carves his trusty spear in his other hand on the tree, then takes a look around and remembers how the girl got lost. From then on, he decided to carve signs onto trees to point any who might get lost in the woods back toward the path, crude carvings of himself or the little girl pointing, including other landmarks in the woods to help them. Others passing through the forest from the nearby village began to do the same, and they formed a silent tradition of marking the forest so that nobody would get lost again.
Eventually, it was practically impossible to get lost in the forest, and without needing to mark any more carvings, or seeing others mark the land, he felt a strange emptiness inside. Perhaps there is more out there than just this forest that's worth seeing, he thought. Others to help, he thought. So he left his forest, years after helping the girl, to explore and help where he could.
