Character Application

[baldemir]

Do you have any prior experience with Requiem? If so, please detail when (and what characters, if desired) you previously played: Played in Requiem years ago with Character named Klaus.


Briefly summarize your prior role-playing experience in a sentence or two: i Played as a Warrior some times, looking for RP ingame, being part of server story lines, by meeting other player stories and tried to be familiarized with. And , yeah, why not, while trying to be involved with the character as giving it life itself, as the best pleasure.

Why do you wish to play on Requiem, and what do you expect from the shard? I just want to play it to bring life to another person in another world, we human being are kind of lost in our life itself. Just want to come home and live a fantastic life.


What will your character’s name be?: Klaussghet


Please briefly describe the physical attributes of your character, including age, looks, height, weight and any notable features:
He is a well-trained young man, with unwavering stamina and peace of mind. A pilgrim of 22 years old, Good looking , 5'75 inches tall, light brown hair and facial hair, and deep green eyes. With a scar in his chest not too prominent.

He learned from a tender age about the deities, the culture itself, the territories and the cartography of the area.
Knowing the importance of this, then, from the age of 8 he was raised by the clergy, his musical learning does not remain completely behind, at a tender age playing musical instruments that will lead him to win the favor of his superiors.

It is said that Klauss, at 12, led the competition between youngsters from different provinces, getting ahead in his reading and writing, as well as manuscripts including ancient languages ​​that, however difficult they were, they seemed not entirely impossible for him.
Once time went by in their first accompaniments with soldiers of the Republic and guided by a Deussian priest, they were attacked by creatures lowering the gloom, already exhausted from using their hands and mentally exhausted care and to stop the attack, he takes a mace from his backpack that he would only use as a last resort, he brandishes it and slams it against evil. From that day on he knew that he was able to help others by healing them and he could defend himself.

LOoking in a corner of his backpack, next to his waterskin, wrapped in old skins, a scroll, which seems to say "klaussghet the acolyte" successfully approved the basic training for six months on wound care and its subsequent treatment.


Briefly state your character’s intentions or motivations for entering the First Province:

To be helpful in aids with people with his knowledgeand faith and olso helping with their wounds.

Briefly write an in-character response to the following scenario:


You have finally arrived at your destination; the Rumbling Pass train-yards. Before you stands a massive outpost, looking to have been erected within the past few years, of which is patrolled by numerous Legionnaires and Church Templar. The outpost guards the only viable entrance to the recently quarantined First Province; the home of Tor, the fallen capital of the Republic. Sitting at the foot of the massive mountain range that effectively contains the First Province within, the outpost serves as the last obstacle you must overcome before entering the quarantined territory.
You and others like you assemble outside of the palisades of the outpost, awaiting the opportunity to speak your case to the presiding Legion officiant who is processing admittance to the Province. Behind him, a passenger train, a marvel of technological advancement, sits idling on its’ tracks, dozens of persons filling it’s numerous passenger cars. A true rarity within the Republic, you can hardly believe your eyes (and ears) as the locomotive releases a massive plume of steam from its’ smokestack. You overhear many a bewildered citizen around you gossip as to how the only truly safe way into the Province is now by rail, for the Rumbling Pass’ mountains are nigh impassible and miles long, with the only safe navigable tunnels being those traveled in the safety of locomotives and rail-cars. You shudder for a moment, pondering how many forsaken souls attempted to flee the cloistered Province through the Pass’ winding, dark tunnels, hordes of Afflicted upon their heels, only to be cut down in the pitch-black darkness.
It strikes you as peculiar that so much effort has been made in securing a means of logistical supply and personnel transportation into the fallen First Province. You’ve heard rumors before of Quarantine Zones; entire Municipalities and even Territories being cut-off from access due to the blight of the Torment and the over-abundance of the walking dead – but in most instances, no one is ever trying to get into to those forsaken places. Yet here, mere miles from the ruins of Tor, masses congregate in order to make their way into the First Province Quarantine Zone. If you hadn’t known any better, the entire scene – the Outpost, the mass of military personnel, the throngs of citizens and the hissing locomotive – resembles more of an evacuation rather than a one-way ticket into anarchy and lawlessness. As you make your way closer to the train-yard outpost, you can’t help but recall all of the wild and crazy stories concerning all manners of rumors about the First Province since it’s fall two years ago. Some say that the treasures awaiting the bold are beyond measure – others swear that Salvation and Ascension is guaranteed for those who would follow their Faith and help reclaim the First Coast.
Where the truth lies, you’ve no idea – you only know that you’re here, at the precipice of it all, and your destination is within reach.
You watch, somewhat defeated, as but a scant few of the hundreds that approach the outpost officiant, who stands at the outer gates of the outpost flanked by a few heavily armored Legionnaires, are actually allowed to pass through the man-door and into the outpost and train-yards proper. You see some swarthy fellows slip pieces of gold to the officiant, while others plead their cases and rationale as to why they should be allowed to enter the recently fallen territory. Some appear to provide some sort of paperwork to the officiant, flashing official looking papers from a Faction or influential Prelacy house, who promptly waves them through. While watching and eavesdropping, you manage to overhear the well-rehearsed speech the officiant provides to those whom don’t provide paperwork or grease his palm, the words monotone and nasally.
“By decree of the Venerated Church, the First Province is a mortal health hazard, and as such, is quarantined under Article Eighteen of the Republic Treatise of Health Act of 1320. Citizens who do not possess a Quarantine Visa issued by one of the recognized Factions of the Republic are considered non-essential to the reclamation of the First Province. Under Article Eighteen, non-essentials seeking entry into an official quarantine zone must petition for entry into a said zone, and state just cause for the issuing of a Quarantine Visa by the perimeter authority.”
The officiant snorts in disdain, then adds the last line to the rehearsed monologue:
“State your business and make it quick, citizen; we’ve enough bodies in there to keep us busy for years without adding yours to the pile, and those VIC are stirring up problems something fierce as of late.”
You ponder the situation for a moment, evaluating your options. It is well known that with the right connections and the right amount of coin, one can get their hands on a Quarantine Visa from any one of the major Factions or Prelacy Families of the Republic, or even a passable counterfeit from more nefarious sources. At the same time, it would appear that the officiant doesn’t appear to be above some simple bribery – although his price may be hefty. However, despite it all, you’re sure that some of those let in appeared to have made a convincing case with the officiant without resorting to subterfuge or immorality. Gathering your wits, you step forward towards the officiant, and make your decision as to how to gain access to the First Province.

Looking the officer in the eye with clarity and peace of mind he fails to see his strong Deusian will.

I certanly could be helpful, maybe even for you to have someone with strong faith and an unwavering will for service. The help with the wounds of people can be very useful for the interests of the republic.

With his hand on his chest and feeling the scar slightly above, he lunges at his heart with a gesture of service and a desirable smile.

Once you have completed this application, please post your responses within the Character Application Board, located here. Thank you!

[Coty]

We will need you to add a bit more to your backstory before accepting you.

We will also need a bit more out of your roleplay response before accepting your application. Please continue the roleplay scenario by responding to the following RP prompt:

"So you're a healer, then?" The officiant says to you as his eyes meet your own. "You've training? Any papers?" He leans back in his chair, folding his arms before him as he awaits your response.

[baldemir]

As official can see in this piece of old paper, here it says something else that I am only good with words.

"Certificate of studies and physical training."

"He looks at him with bright eyes, hanging on every second that passes that they become eternal in waiting while he draws the attention of others in line for his eloquence"

[Coty]

Congratulations, adventurer! Your application is...

Approved!

Please ensure that your character name is spelled correctly upon exiting the Songmaker's chambers. A GM will approve your character at their earliest convenience.

Welcome to Requiem!

The officiant leans in to read the paper as you present it. A piece of parchment? That's it? His gaze swings up to you, a single brow raising as he leans back once more. Though, it could never hurt to have another healer if his words were indeed true. Worse case he'd just be another lost soul off to meet their demise. Sighing he stamps a piece of parchment before handing you your visa. "Good luck."