OOC
Minecraft Username: R0P3F15H
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes
Have you read the rules? (Link): three times
(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: My partner was discussing it and it peaked my interest.
(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: Technically no.
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): Hello, I'm Ropefish ( She/They ). I've been Rping in games for a good twelve-ish years through various mediums including long defunct forums, games and chat rooms. Of note i mostly RP in FFXIV, I enjoy writing greatly and the lore of this place ( after my partner had spoke about it ) really intrigued me! I've played minecraft a lot in the past but never had the chance to RP, this seemed a pretty good place and if my partner is here to i might as well take a shot in joining along :>
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In-Character
The rhythmic lull of hoofbeats are a marching drum to the small group of pioneers and variety of folk we have found ourselves amongst, packed into a wobbling wagon. The rolling plains of the Southern Reach and a clear sky stretch out all around us, the buzz of excited chatter a dull wash over us, our thoughts drifting off on the travels that have brought us here. The life we have lead till now. was this new?
“Nervous?”
Our eyes blink, returning to the present moment. A kindly older woman sat near us is smiling warmly with a crinkle to her eyes.
“I can tell it’s your first time. Still remember mine,” she flashes a grin and leans in.
“Tell me my dear, why have you come to the Reach?”
Our mind races, cells flash in brilliant hues across the network lain within our body as memories as old as the dirt cycle through from past generations. However ours currently is important, this journey is important but we've forgotten all-together why... It is the reason we have come from the north, isn't it? this place was once where we had been born though we knew not our mother.... the only embrace had been the verdant green deep in the wood, the mother Greatling's womb had been our cradle and the sun our nursemaid. Ahhh common... right we did know this language, deeply rooted in 'mothers' mind unto ours, Why we warned not to go ever to close to that spire in the south despite the familiarity of the faces within. It mattered little now, the journey this way took its time after we had learned the old inhabitants had up and vanished! Is this what the old wood had spoken of? as vague as the premonition had been it was our directive for leaving, to seek the others and see how the realm in wake of calamity was doing... Though our only response would be 'it is getting better' with apathetic tone.
The powers that be as a ruling class amongst the spoken however sparked little hope in us... even now the 'Grand Duchy' was still holed up in their wall, we didn't think it could look worse but it has given way to some lovely vines now more aggressively clinging to its sides. It will not stand the test of time without care, an almost affront to our natures boon in its brutalism though perhaps the more disappointing of the old woods stories was that of spoken who rose against oppression, though we now know it was all too easy for them to fold back into such controlling ways as such their 'emperors' grip remains tight enough grains of sand slip through, yet if it loosens the entirety of their new empire might collapse. The Valkian then in their expansion have only cut down more and more, dug into the ground to dredge resources and mar the land in pursuit of 'greater' glory. Unlike us, their thoughts do not extend into the future... what they cling to will sadly waste away... with that in mind it is why we perhaps took kindness to the Falstoner, carefree are their lives they do not hole up amongst wealth and walls, they travel amongst the roads and woods in such way they speak our tongue. Welcome our kin with welcome arms along with silly games too, warming to see amongst the clattering of greed such kind faces and mirth! It reminded us of home in our weary travels amongst the spoken. so it was then that we began traveling back, wondering what had happened...
The grainy sinew that was once vocal chords stirred, the woman had long decided she was talking to a houseplant had a amused look of shock when we spoke.
"we are.... going... Home."
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Character Name: [ aig a bheil a gheug a’ ruigheachd gu èirigh na grèine ] -AKA- Little Branch
Character Race: Fey-Touched [Woodland] / Greatling
Character Age: 107
Brief Physical Description: It is hard to tell if anything of their humanoid origins is visible, so long have they been touched by the wild woods that their beady blood-orange eyes are covered amongst bramble and leaf they've adorned their body with, the mind replaced with mycelium and their voice a chorus in grainy sinew. One could without doubt mistake Branch for a tree due to their tall stature at seven foot one, and the knurled roots and mushrooms that now make up their shoes or the fact they oh so rarely blink or move giving an imposing impression ( despite a whimsical personality ). They rarely wear cloths, as unlike most they have let themselves subsume parts of the wood as their wear like a gillie suit.