OOC
Minecraft Username: Behindbush
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yup, actually 24
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yup
(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: I was actually looking for some new RP server and found it on MinecraftServers.org, buried deep within!
(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: Nope
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): Hey there! I'm coming from the other, big Minecraft roleplay server to have some fresh experience and try something new! I've never really played any DnD or TTRPG, but been roleplaying for some time, long time ago in some GTA, 2 years ago found out that Minecraft actually has some cool RP community and fell in love with it! Privately I'm a designer and a corpo-rat, living by the Polish coast. Minecraft-RP-wise, I really like creating narratives for people, not limitng myself to the most mundane RP; as well as doing some nice builds, yet I'm no pro at it.
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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?)
Sylara sits rigid on the wagon’s creaking bench, the rhythmic clop of hooves against the Southern Reach’s dusty trails a stark drumbeat amid the rolling plains stretching under a clear sky. The chatter of pioneers fades to a dull hum as her mind drifts to the secluded Falstoner camps of the Vale of the Fallen, a remote valley nestled in the windswept expanses of the Faded Steppe, where ancient rock formations, etched with cryptic runes and shrouded in perpetual mist stand as silent guardians over rumored portals to the Ether. These formations, pulsing faintly with ethereal energy, were both a haven and a source of dread in her childhood, their whispers of otherworldly crossings fueling the superstitions that kept her hidden from prying eyes, teaching her that the veil between realms is thin and treacherous, a lesson that hardened her trust into something scarce and fragile.
The older woman’s warm, crinkled smile cuts through her reverie, and Sylara blinks, her posture stiffening further, her pale face a mask of cool detachment as she regards the stranger with wary, fathomless purple eyes. Her dark branches, sprouting from her cranium and blooming with faintly shimmering blue flowers, sway slightly with the wagon’s motion, a visible from afar reminder of her half-fey heritage that has always marked her as an outsider, a reason for her seclusion - at least till now.
"Nervous?" she repeated after the woman, her voice cool and measured, laced with the faint lilt of her secluded upbringing, betraying little of the inner storm "Perhaps" she concedes flatly, her gaze shifting to the horizon, hands clasped tightly in her lap to hide any tremor "I’ve come to preserve - that’s all." She pauses, her tone edged with ice, as if sharing even this much is a concession "My father fled the moment I was born, unable to bear the sight of what his union with my Fey-Touched mother had wrought. And she... she perished years later in a savage Greatling raid on our camp, those towering, resilient giants from the mountains descending like a storm, their immense forms and unyielding strength shattering our fragile defenses in a night of chaos and blood. That loss stripped away the last ties to my old life, leaving me no choice but to run south, crossing The Wall into this forsaken land." her head was shook as a slight frown appeared on her face, realizing that she may have just revealed a tad bit too much
The Great Disappearance, that cataclysmic event fifty years past when the enigmatic Aedall civilization vanished without trace from the Southern Reach, their advanced spires and cities crumbling into overgrown ruins that now echo with residual magic and untold dangers, holds a grim allure for survivors like her. It created this wild expanse of opportunity and peril that now spans in front of the caravan, a place where the remnants of a lost people offer scant shelter but demand constant vigilance, mirroring the isolation that defined her existence and pushing her to seek mere endurance amid the shadows of what was left behind. A place she knows very little of.
"I’ve no illusions of grand destinies or easy alliances" Sylara adds, her words hanging like frost, meeting the woman’s kind eyes with guarded resolve "Trust is earned slowly, if at all, in a world that’s taken everything. Here, among these strangers and ruins, I’ll carve out whatever scraps of life remain - nothing more" Or so she thought, as she exclaimed with a slight signal, that's she's not up for more conversation.
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Character Name: Sylara
Character Race: Half human / Half fey-touched
Character Age: 26
Brief Physical Description: Sylara standing at 5'4"/163cm is a slender, sturdy figure shaped by Falstoner life in seclusion. Her pale, luminescent skin bears faint azure freckles, as dark branches sprout from her cranium, just beneath the hair, blooming with faintly glowing blue flowers, marking her Fey-touched heritage. Her solid, pupil-less cobalt-blue eyes glow ethereally. She wears a high-collared black wool tunic with silver vine embroidery, a blue sash, dark trousers, and boots. Her elongated fingers, tipped with opalescent nails, reveal iridescent veins. Silvery scars, like frostbite, mark her arms from past perils.
Image of Skin and Figura Model: Attaching reference photo as well! Will make the eyes full solid color as per fey-touched lore soon enough, word.
