OOC
Minecraft Username: S1mxne
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yessir!
(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Through a server website while looking for a more serious rp server.
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): I'm a Scottish video game concept and 3D artist, a writer and a lover of cats!
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In-Character
Read the following prompt:
The rhythmic lull of hoofbeats are a marching drum to the small group of pioneers and variety of folk you have found yourself amongst, packed into a wobbling wagon. The rolling plains of the Southern Reach and a clear sky stretch out all around you, the buzz of excited chatter a dull wash in your ears as your mind strays to your former life and what has led you here to new lands.
“Nervous?”
You blink, returning to the present moment. A kindly older woman sat near you 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?”
How do you respond (in character)? (250 word minimum - please make sure to include at least three references to our lore in your response, with two coming from different pages in the Compendium. Two of the three selected should also be in-depth, avoid simply name-dropping lore terms. Tie the terms into your character's backstory. Why are they important to them?)
After reaching the coast beyond the Midlands, the majority of Caelahns journey through the northern swamps, often thickly stenched by a musk of stagnant mineral water and rotting vegetation, to the romantic plains of the Southern Reach, had him hooked to the end of the wagon—pale faced and hollow cheeked with nausea.
Despite growing up on cascading waves, never settled on solid land for too long, his sea legs had grown irritably intolerable to the likes of four wheeled transport.
“Nervous?”
A voice sounded close by, almost washed away by the rhythmic patter of steel against cobble road. Blinking as the morning sun broke through the clouds, casting an orange glow across the wooden panels of the wagon and the unfamiliar faces that whispered incoherently amongst themselves, Caelahn raised his gaze to meet the gentle eyes across from him—eyes of wisdom and a life lived.
By appearance she was old, her skin cut by valleys of age, crinkling as she grinned knowingly and leant in towards him.
Perhaps by nature, or by some other compulsion that he was blissfully ignorant of, his hand moved swiftly to his side, feeling for the leather pocket that housed his most loyal possession. A lucky curse.
His eyes softened, amber irises flecked with gold, gleaming with welcome and disarming comfort,
“I am in search of something more, my dear. Whether that is knowledge or riches, I dream in gold, and wake whispering numbers or odds.” he spoke, silver tongued and melodic, his relaxed Mori cadence drawing out his vowels as if he were about to perform a recital.
Caelahn’s people, like all Arsa Sidhe, live in the long shadow of greatness lost. Though his own branch of the bloodline flourished post-Collapse in Ko’ram, there’s an inherited melancholy in him—a quiet yearning for something beyond trade, treasure, and luck.
He was told tales of Aedall, and of what the Arsa Sidhe once were: scholars, artists, rulers. But when he asked his mother why they no longer chased power, she only said: "We chased too much once. Now, we drift like pearls. Beautiful, but directionless."
Caelahn disagreed. He’d rather be the one wearing the pearl, not being strung up by it.
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Character Name: Caelahn Virenthil
Character Race: Arsa Sidhe
Character Age: 62 (appears late 20s-early 30s)
Brief Physical Description:
Caelahn Virenthil cuts a striking figure, tall and lithe, with the effortless grace of someone who’s spent a lifetime slipping through shadows and silvering items from unsuspecting pockets. His skin bears a smooth, rosy-mauve hue that flushes vividly with emotion, often betraying more than his ever-present smirk. His sharply angular face is framed by a mane of ember-red hair - so rare among the Arsa Sidhe that it marks him instantly. Many assume it's dyed or magical. It’s not. It’s one of the reasons he can’t hide for long, often tied into a high ponytail and woven with pearl beads and silver thread, remnants of his clan’s pearl-diving legacy in southern Mori. His eyes, a rich liquid gold, gleam with quiet amusement beneath arched brows, as if he’s always reading the final lines of a tale no one else has realised they’re in. A faint scar above his lip hints at mischief gone awry, though he tells a different story each time it’s noticed.
He dresses with a flair that blends elegance and utility; a loose, lavender silk tunic worn beneath a fitted leather corsair’s vest, dark trousers embroidered with subtle wave motifs, and a short cloak lined with iridescent fabric that catches the light like fish scales. Rings studded with pearls and a carved coral pendant speak of wealth earned—or spirited away—across distant coasts. Caelahn’s voice is smooth, with a relaxed Mori cadence, his words measured but never without charm. At his hip, a coin sometimes flickers into view, spinning seemingly of its own accord. Charismatic, persuasive, and forever three steps ahead, Caelahn moves through the world like a whispered rumour, smelling faintly of salt air, sandalwood, and clove—luck, it seems, has chosen a favourite.
