Erlewis
Lord of Altera
Hello!
My Minecraft username is “ERLGrey”. Not a misspelling, but a pun on my initials, “ERL”. Also tea. Previously known as “erlewis1111”
I’m 17 this year, in my final year of high school, and trying to figure out procrastinating figuring out what I’m doing with my life. At this moment, I’m a reasonably proud resident of Canada.
I have read through the guides once again upon returning this time, and not just relying on old knowledge to carry me through. I’m considerate like that. I thoroughly enjoyed a lot of the new lore additions. Kudos.
What else can I say... ? Fencing. Still doing that. I’m in my fourth year now, and have somewhat plateaued temporarily in my skill level. I still have a lot of fun doing it, despite that, and quitting would hardly help me push past that difficulty.
I’ve continued writing fervently, helped by a Creative Writing course motivating me to do some manner of writing at all times. I’ve begun to try my hand at poetry recently, and while I’m still undoubtedly a novice, I’m beginning to appreciate that side of writing culture.
Oh! Gaming! Right! Fallout 4 was released recently, and my Red Rocket garage is packed with power armour. I’m looking forward to having a chance to try some other games that have been released recently, like Star Wars: Battlefront (despite the mediocre reception it’s received so far), but for the time being, my money earned through babysitting my two younger brothers is largely going toward Christmas gifts for friends and family, and hoping they go over well.
My past experience with Hollowworld was excellent, but a plethora of reasons sent me away last time. Looking back, my problems that I consistently encountered with roleplay likely spawned from the fact that most of my characters were designed with some special little trait, trying to make them into my “special little snowflake”, as Deester has called it in past conversations. Naturally, as the idea of roleplaying games is to have a basic character who grows, this failed for all the characters that followed Erlewis. I’m crossing my fingers that simply allowing the world of Altera to shape my character, rather than trying to exert my will on the world will help this.
I suppose we’ll find out!
As for examples of my work… haven’t really got anything. My building skills have improved ever so slightly since I left, so I’m delighted to lend a hand if anyone wants help building, but massive construction projects are not my forte.
----
About your character:
Link to character profile here: http://hollowworld.co.uk/threads/fechin.35426/
The test
“It was a dark and stormy night… the candle in the middle of the table flickered, illuminating the faces of the men I was meeting there. There… the Elfish Dancer. The tavern in the part of the town where few dared to tread, and the ones who did… well, they were the ones who dared, indeed.
“There were four of us, of course. Aren’t there always? The holy man, the Cleric, there to hunt the beasts of the darkness for his righteous cause. The stalwart warrior, the Fighter, ready to draw his sword and charge into battle. The cunning and swift enigma, the Rogue, drawn by the lure of coin. And myself, of course, the Wiz-”
A sudden burst of laughter from a large Man standing in the corner of the Dainty Pig stopped Fechin’s story in its tracks. Fechin’s captivated audience wheeled around to find where the noise had come from, and quickly turned back around when they found their answer. The Man in the back was heavily muscled, arms bare despite the inclement weather out of doors, displaying the tattoos and scars that decorated their length.
The upper half of Fechin’s face had been shadowed by the hood of his cloak, and his story-voice was low and ominous, but as he yanked back his hood to see the Man in the back, his audience was surprised to note that he was little more than a young boy, and his voice now was less mysterious, and more annoyed than anything.
“What? You think I’m making this up? I’m a magician, swear on the Gods.”
The Man chortled darkly and leaned back, letting the large sword across his back ‘thunk’ gently against the inn’s wooden wall. The rain outside continued as the Man spoke up with a thick Northern accent.
“Ah know magicians, li’l one. Yer no magician. Ye make up yer stories abou’ Bravery an’ bein’ a Hero, jus’ because ye know those people are ou’ thar.
Fechin blinked, and then grinned knowingly at his audience.
“Sure, of course. I’m no magician. I’m nobody. That’s why I’m able to do this!”
His fingers twirled a deck of cards between them, drew four, all Aces. He grandly displayed them to his audience before flicking them, one at a time, at the four candles that sat between himself and his audience. Each of the four candles went out, wicks gently put out by the four cards. In the darkness, Fechin snapped his fingers, and to his audience it seemed as though a small flame hovered above his right thumb.
Lightly brushing his thumb over the candle wicks, Fechin seemed able to ignite all of the candles… but one. With a look of mock confusion on his face, he pointed to the card, the Ace of Clubs, that had brushed over the flameless candle. It had landed facedown on the stone floor, and Fechin nodded to the man near it. The man hesitantly raised it from the ground, and with an impressed look, he demonstrated it to the crowd. The Club had been replaced with a carefully painted orange flame. The card, it seemed, had transformed into the Ace of Flames.
Applause and cheers rose up from the crowd, and Fechin shot the Man a smug look. The Man let a sharp breath out through his nose, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and angry, with fury boiling just below the surface.
“You dare make a mock’ry o’ those ‘oo did fight? You DARE t’ pretend t’ be somethin’ yer not?”
The cheers had faded, and they quickly turned into screams as the Man drew his sword, rending the air in an angry swipe. He strode across the tavern in three strides as Fechin scrambled back in alarm and fear, his wooden chair clattering to the ground. The crowd scattered, bolting for the door. The Man kicked aside Fechin's chair, and seized the smaller man by the back of his cloak. Fechin tore free, and dashed out into the rain. The Man followed.
With the crowd watching in anxious alarm, Fechin attempted to run, only to slip in the mud. He attempted to stand again, but the Man had caught up to him. He seized Fechin by the throat and raised him into the air. As Fechin flailed, struggling for breath, a spent matchstick and the Ace of Clubs fell from his sleeves. The Man afforded a look of disgust at these small artifacts of Fechin’s performance, before turning his gaze back to Fechin. His eyes were mismatched, one red and one blue.
“Ye had bes’ figure it ou’ quick, li’l one.” His eyes glimmered with rage. “Yer no magician.” He spun, swinging Fechin at the mud.
Fechin remembered the ground rushing up to meet him, and then darkness.
My Minecraft username is “ERLGrey”. Not a misspelling, but a pun on my initials, “ERL”. Also tea. Previously known as “erlewis1111”
I’m 17 this year, in my final year of high school, and trying to figure out procrastinating figuring out what I’m doing with my life. At this moment, I’m a reasonably proud resident of Canada.
I have read through the guides once again upon returning this time, and not just relying on old knowledge to carry me through. I’m considerate like that. I thoroughly enjoyed a lot of the new lore additions. Kudos.
What else can I say... ? Fencing. Still doing that. I’m in my fourth year now, and have somewhat plateaued temporarily in my skill level. I still have a lot of fun doing it, despite that, and quitting would hardly help me push past that difficulty.
I’ve continued writing fervently, helped by a Creative Writing course motivating me to do some manner of writing at all times. I’ve begun to try my hand at poetry recently, and while I’m still undoubtedly a novice, I’m beginning to appreciate that side of writing culture.
Oh! Gaming! Right! Fallout 4 was released recently, and my Red Rocket garage is packed with power armour. I’m looking forward to having a chance to try some other games that have been released recently, like Star Wars: Battlefront (despite the mediocre reception it’s received so far), but for the time being, my money earned through babysitting my two younger brothers is largely going toward Christmas gifts for friends and family, and hoping they go over well.
My past experience with Hollowworld was excellent, but a plethora of reasons sent me away last time. Looking back, my problems that I consistently encountered with roleplay likely spawned from the fact that most of my characters were designed with some special little trait, trying to make them into my “special little snowflake”, as Deester has called it in past conversations. Naturally, as the idea of roleplaying games is to have a basic character who grows, this failed for all the characters that followed Erlewis. I’m crossing my fingers that simply allowing the world of Altera to shape my character, rather than trying to exert my will on the world will help this.
I suppose we’ll find out!
As for examples of my work… haven’t really got anything. My building skills have improved ever so slightly since I left, so I’m delighted to lend a hand if anyone wants help building, but massive construction projects are not my forte.
----
About your character:
Link to character profile here: http://hollowworld.co.uk/threads/fechin.35426/
The test
“It was a dark and stormy night… the candle in the middle of the table flickered, illuminating the faces of the men I was meeting there. There… the Elfish Dancer. The tavern in the part of the town where few dared to tread, and the ones who did… well, they were the ones who dared, indeed.
“There were four of us, of course. Aren’t there always? The holy man, the Cleric, there to hunt the beasts of the darkness for his righteous cause. The stalwart warrior, the Fighter, ready to draw his sword and charge into battle. The cunning and swift enigma, the Rogue, drawn by the lure of coin. And myself, of course, the Wiz-”
A sudden burst of laughter from a large Man standing in the corner of the Dainty Pig stopped Fechin’s story in its tracks. Fechin’s captivated audience wheeled around to find where the noise had come from, and quickly turned back around when they found their answer. The Man in the back was heavily muscled, arms bare despite the inclement weather out of doors, displaying the tattoos and scars that decorated their length.
The upper half of Fechin’s face had been shadowed by the hood of his cloak, and his story-voice was low and ominous, but as he yanked back his hood to see the Man in the back, his audience was surprised to note that he was little more than a young boy, and his voice now was less mysterious, and more annoyed than anything.
“What? You think I’m making this up? I’m a magician, swear on the Gods.”
The Man chortled darkly and leaned back, letting the large sword across his back ‘thunk’ gently against the inn’s wooden wall. The rain outside continued as the Man spoke up with a thick Northern accent.
“Ah know magicians, li’l one. Yer no magician. Ye make up yer stories abou’ Bravery an’ bein’ a Hero, jus’ because ye know those people are ou’ thar.
Fechin blinked, and then grinned knowingly at his audience.
“Sure, of course. I’m no magician. I’m nobody. That’s why I’m able to do this!”
His fingers twirled a deck of cards between them, drew four, all Aces. He grandly displayed them to his audience before flicking them, one at a time, at the four candles that sat between himself and his audience. Each of the four candles went out, wicks gently put out by the four cards. In the darkness, Fechin snapped his fingers, and to his audience it seemed as though a small flame hovered above his right thumb.
Lightly brushing his thumb over the candle wicks, Fechin seemed able to ignite all of the candles… but one. With a look of mock confusion on his face, he pointed to the card, the Ace of Clubs, that had brushed over the flameless candle. It had landed facedown on the stone floor, and Fechin nodded to the man near it. The man hesitantly raised it from the ground, and with an impressed look, he demonstrated it to the crowd. The Club had been replaced with a carefully painted orange flame. The card, it seemed, had transformed into the Ace of Flames.
Applause and cheers rose up from the crowd, and Fechin shot the Man a smug look. The Man let a sharp breath out through his nose, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and angry, with fury boiling just below the surface.
“You dare make a mock’ry o’ those ‘oo did fight? You DARE t’ pretend t’ be somethin’ yer not?”
The cheers had faded, and they quickly turned into screams as the Man drew his sword, rending the air in an angry swipe. He strode across the tavern in three strides as Fechin scrambled back in alarm and fear, his wooden chair clattering to the ground. The crowd scattered, bolting for the door. The Man kicked aside Fechin's chair, and seized the smaller man by the back of his cloak. Fechin tore free, and dashed out into the rain. The Man followed.
With the crowd watching in anxious alarm, Fechin attempted to run, only to slip in the mud. He attempted to stand again, but the Man had caught up to him. He seized Fechin by the throat and raised him into the air. As Fechin flailed, struggling for breath, a spent matchstick and the Ace of Clubs fell from his sleeves. The Man afforded a look of disgust at these small artifacts of Fechin’s performance, before turning his gaze back to Fechin. His eyes were mismatched, one red and one blue.
“Ye had bes’ figure it ou’ quick, li’l one.” His eyes glimmered with rage. “Yer no magician.” He spun, swinging Fechin at the mud.
Fechin remembered the ground rushing up to meet him, and then darkness.
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