OOC
Minecraft Username: LiamVI
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes
(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Planet Minecraft
(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: N/A
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): I'm Liam, and I'm a bit of an old-head when it comes to MCRP. Played very actively between 2012-2020 across a multitude of servers, but haven't been around for many years now. Interested in picking up one of my oldest hobbies again and finding another outlet for creative writing that doesn't involve banging my head against an empty Scrivener page!
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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)?:
"Heard there was need of good cattle herders."
Kelsier returned his attention to the passing planes, noting the richness of the soil and the absence of the pervasive agriculture that dominated his homeland. Memories flooded in, and his lips threatened to turn up, but he quashed the sudden emotion. From the corner of his eye, he noted the woman's unfaltering gaze - with the occasional glance to his jacket - and let out a sigh. Yeah, right, he thought, returning his attention to the older woman. Cattle-herder. That'll sell, Kelsier.
"Farmers?" he tried, earning little more than a smirk and a crossing of arms from the stranger. Kelsier shook his head.
"Do you make a habit of asking every stranger for their life-story, crammed into a tiny carriage and unable to run away?"
The woman made a gesture - a tilting of the hand, so-so, and a brief chuckle escaped him. What the hell, he thought. Couldn't hurt to chat a little. Not like there's much else to do.
"I'm running away." he said, speaking the words in truth for the first time. The woman's eyes alighted with interest, and despite his initial reservations, he couldn't stop the story from following.
"You ever held a position of responsibility, miss? Not the small responsibilities that pave the way for another, nor the necessary responsibilities that see a belly filled and a job well done. Real responsibility. Life and death, birth and decay, discovery and security. A powerful responsibility."
He grimaced, yet continued.
"I did, once. Maybe even twice, but I didn't consider it mine the first time. Not really. Neither did my family - some would say rightly so. Growing up in a house where you were always second best only by the timing of your birth... it doesn't do wonders for one's sense of propriety, let me tell you that. That was the first time I ran from responsibility. The Realm has no shortage of would-be second sons vying for power and control, even in the smallest of baronies. I wasn't needed there, and I was glad to see the back of it all. Let the rest of them factionalise and fight for the briefest attention from Dukes and Princes and the King-Emperor. That's what I thought."
"I'd already decided on my way out by my twentieth year. The Starchaser. A grand name for little more than an oversized cargo hold, to be sure, but a fine vessel all the same. An unusual mix of Mistan and Valkian sailors who braved the journey between the Mist Isles and the mainland. The type of ship where nobody'd ever look you twice, and if they did, only to see if you were up a game of cards. By fortune or favor, Captain even held an honest-to-god ducal writ of passage, so it wasn't like I had to abandon the trappings of the mainland entirely. Regular dockings in one of the larger trade ports, or one of those nice little Isles coastal towns. A fair wage, and not too many questions. Even got to listen to the story-songs of a Mistan Storyteller, now and again."
"I wouldn't say it was everything I hoped, but it was a living. Captain even bumped me up to Second Mate, after seeing I had an eye for the starcharts. Problems started soon after that."
Kelsier winced as long-untouched memories flooded in, and took a few moments to observe the rolling hills. The excited chatter from the carriage's other occupants brought him back to a similar time, packed tight into a similar confine of aged wood. When the announcement had been made.
"Trouble'd started back up in the Realm, see. Contracts were getting fewer and further between, and those we could get? Hardly covered our expenses. Some regional conflicts, as they like to call their little wars. The Starchaser was built and crewed to haul more than food shipments, y'see, and everyone was clinging onto their arms and armour like gold. So we had a vote, and the very next day, we'd gone from cargo haulers to privateers. Didn't much like the sound of it myself, but it wasn't a particularly unusual thing from what the men told me. Nothing big like the conflicts on the mainlands, but we wouldn't be the first men to turn privateer. Not in the Mist Isles. Our contractor was a small fleet of ships that weren't well known outside of their little community, but they knew the open seas like the back of their hand, and had a taste for the wealth that sailed between the Isles. Especially if it came from the Realm."
"Just like that, I had a sword in my hand and this very jacket on my back. A "privateer" ship, if you could call it that. Still supposedly just a cargo ship, but one where the men were expected to fight on the open seas, if the rewards called for it. It called for it a lot. I'd had some training back home, so before long I was bumped up to First Mate, and given the responsibility of training the men as best I could."
"We got pretty lucky. Until we didn't. One fight got bloody, and I mean bloody," he said, fingering a lightly worn spot on his jacket near the collar. An old bloodstain, that, and one that no amount of soap and lye could ever erase. "Lost half the crew, and nearly had the entire ship scuttled for our efforts. Captain dead. Ryder, my best friend, near dead. We practically limped away from the fight. Couldn't head back to the Realm, though. We'd made the mistake of heading too close to one of the trade ports for a time, and Captain got a little greedy with one of our targets. What should've been a quick shakedown turned into the death of a few men carrying their own writ of passage, and the liberation of some goods intended for someone a little too high. We became wanted men, then."
"Everyone knows the Mistal are the best bloody sailors in the world, but I'll tell you what, that didn't mean half a damn when most of our best navigators were out with wounds, or infection, or god-knows what else. So it fell to me to get us to safe ground, and I failed. We missed the Isles by a hair, and ended up on some little island further out. Not much lie that way in the world - nothing you'd hear about in anything but the folk songs of the Mistal, at least. Regardless, we weren't the only ones on that island. A small community of explorers had taken root - the type of folk who'd once had nowhere else to go, and decided to risk it all on the frontier. Place was plagued with monsters, but damn if I can't respect how these folk handled it, even had their own little guard force that could pack a mean punch."
"Our arrival marked a big increase in the population of that island, but we were like them. Men with no place to go. Some of the Mistan in the crew built their own boats and set off homeward-bound, of course, but a fair few stayed with us. We helped built up that little settlement, and eventually it was decided to put forward a leader for the community. The crew, and plenty of the locals, named me for the task."
"To this day I couldn't tell you how I won. Not against the men and women of note that'd lived there long before I arrived, but regardless, I won. Maybe it was because I symbolized new hope, or perhaps just to get away from the old conflicts that'd plagued them for over a decade. Whatever it was, they named me their new mayor. And I betrayed them."
Kelsier clenched his fist. His bad fist, shredded by the blades of those he'd once promised to protect. The pain offered some scant comfort, that he'd at least seen some punishment for his misdeeds. Not enough, perhaps, but some. A tear threatened to slip from his eyes.
"And now I'm here. Alone in the world, without even a single man to call friend, but here all the same. Headed for an ancient artifact I know nothing about, but a town that hasn't seen me at my worst. A new place to explore, untouched since the disappearance of the Aedall, and a great big Wall between me and those who might ever think to look for me. And who knows? Maybe there's good I can do yet."
—
Character Name: Kelsier {surname relinquished}
Character Race: Human
Character Age: 29
Brief Physical Description: Standing at a height of 5'10" with a fair complexion and rough strawberry blonde hair, patchwork scars criss-cross the visible skin of his face and arms. He possesses a wiry frame and the cautious, ever-vigilant green eyes of a man who has known harsh fighting. His clothes are weathered and worn-in, with the singular exception of an immaculately cared for naval jacket absent any medals or honours.
Image of Skin and Figura Model: I've never been any good with skin editing, so I'll probably have to reach out to an old friend and get some changes made to modernise it a little bit, but this'll be the rough look.
