OOC
Minecraft Username: elmersglueio
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes
(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Online search results
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): Hello, I am Elmersglueio or Glue for short. I am 21 years old and enjoy writing stories. I have been roleplaying for about 5 years and recently discovered this community. My favorite things in life are creating and talking, which is why I love story telling the most. Somethings that I create are my own stories, a skin here or there, and I enjoying building. I do my own art on the side (traditional, I don’t have an online sketch pad) and could do commissions.
In-Character: Response
Kael'ira rested her weight against the groaning, worn bench of the wagon, the weathered wood creaking softly beneath her as if in quiet conversation with the road. Her grey hands fluttered to a loose thread along her sleeve—a nervous habit she never quite lost. The Southern Reach rolled out endlessly around them, golden grasses rippling in harmony with the wind, whispering like ghosts just out of the reach of hearing.
She had not noticed the older woman watching her until the voice broke the spell of recollection. Kael'ira blinked, unyielding blue eyes focusing as if drawn out of a dream. The woman's face was creased from sun and kindness, her eyes long-suffering.
Kael'ira smiled slightly, struggling to reach the woman’s gaze. "I lost my parents," she answered softly, her words carried away on the wind—measured and cold. “The ground opened and swallowed them up. It was an earthquake, they said, but no one could explain why. They say the mountain screamed loudest that day."
A moment passed between them, the silence stretching as long as the Reach was vast. Kael’ira’s fingers brushed against the singular pendant resting against her skin—a fragment of black obsidian from the edge of the Dragon’s Maw.
“My parents were Fireborne," she said at last, voice soft but unyielding. "We owned land near Bastion, one of the few spots in the Ashlands where green still springs. My mother was Fey-Touched, eyes at birth like the rushing tides, sharp as a the sea. She scouted with a horn-carved bow from the bluffs, and the Fire Dragon was said to guard her. In my home, it is a great honor to clear a home for your people—and she did just that." She paused for the space of a breath as if remembering a dream she’d almost forgotten. “My father was a Greatling, a gentle giant seemingly cut from the stone he carved,” She cleared her throat before continuing, as if to clear something up, “He was a carver who cut shrines to the memory of the dead dragon. Not a warrior, he was an artisan.”
Kael’ira laughed lightly for a moment as the old woman listened. Kael’ira’s eyes dropping to a spot just below her feet as spoke more warmly now. “Their love for eachother burned brighter than any hearth, and at the wedding—the people say the bonfire was as tall as the mountain as of the smoke itself had joined the party,” She paused. “My home was made of a smooth cut volcanic stone with carvings of the Fire Dragon along every corner—well before they packed up and moved on to another rock.”
She turned her gaze back to the wagon, to the strange and shifting horizon. “The arcane has always interested me, much to my family’s confusion. They weren't ones to dabble in the arcane arts,” Kael’ira spoke more confidently now, with a small spark of curiosity in her tone. “The Spire is rich with scholars no? I plan to find one to teach me.”
The old woman spoke something but a sudden large rock plagued the vast landscape of the Southern Reach, drawing her memories into sharp relief. Sadness and grief are heavy emotions, like oil on water. Kael’ira’s eyes are drawn back to her pendant. “They say the Spire is older than anything we have, even the bones of the dragons. Scholars say nobody knows when it first appeared."
“Won’t you miss home?” The old woman asked calmly as Kael'ira glanced at her.
For a moment, she didn't respond. Instead she let her thoughts linger on her own home. The way the lava hugged the black rocks in a wave of heat, the way the ground was peppered with ash, she remembered the smells of her people and heartache set in. Finally, and with some sadness, she answered. “That place no longer feels like home to me.”
She was never at home among the warriors of her people. Kael’ira hadn’t ever cleared a place for herself amongst the Greatlings or Fae-touched. Her eyes, shining with the depth of Fey blood and the weariness of grief, lingered on the horizon.
"If the Fire Dragon's spirit still guides us, perhaps it's guiding me here."
In-Character: General
Character Name: Kael’ira
Character Race: 50/50 Fae-touched and Greatling
Character Age: 24
Brief Physical Description: Kael’ira has light grey skin that is smooth and almost luminescent in the right light (One of the traits she inherited from her Greatling father). Her eyes are pools of water—an opaque blue (One of the traits she inherited from her mother). Her hair falls in soft, silken waves of black, reaching just past her shoulders (Kael’ira has too much hair on account of her fae-touched mother and likes to keep it as long as possible). The most notable feature of her appearance are her horns (Her father’s blood). Jutting out of her forehead and curling backwards, the end tinged with soot—as if burned. Kael’ira stands at 6’7”—which is on the shortest side of the Greatlings. She keeps most of her belongings in the pouches along her belt but her both prized item is the pendant around her neck. The black obsidian was obtained shortly after her parents passing and she would rather die than give it away.
