Minecraft Username: Lyssyloops
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes!
(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: My partner, Karnalwayfarer, who has been greatly enjoying his time on the server. :]
(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: KarnalWayfarer
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): Hello! I am Dean, I’m a D&D player, filmmaker and artist currently studying in university. I’m fond of drawing character art!
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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?)
(It’s a micro-adjustment made nigh unreadable by the cover of a mask, perhaps a snarl dipping into a smile. The sincerity of such an expression is dubious, but his tone is nice, if not tickled with thick accentation.) “Passin’ through, ‘s all.”
(A pause, a consideration.) “Bet yer lookin’ for more than that, eh? Cannae blame you, I’m’s a looker.” (A serpentine gesture, a double-click of the tongue)
“We don’ need to get too friendly too quick, so let’s keep to partyin’ names: Tarvoch.” (A slender hand extends, too eager, like its twitching to strike rather than to exchange a handshake.) “S’pleasure, hope ye have a nice day!”
(Hoping the conversation is done, an attempt is made to begin slinking away. The whinnying of the horse and kindly older face is enough to quickly break down his not-so-strong gusto.)
“Fine. Tarvoch Canavan—pronounced like Caravan.” (He puzzles on an inside joke, gagging) “Hey! Funny coincidence that is, because I used to be runnin’ with one before I made my way to this… Charmed establishment.” (A faux-bow)
“Yeeep, my family were from Star Seer caravans… Night-dwellers, good for morning business, bad for the sleep schedule. Y’see, the second I had the chance I split… O’course, the fey made it easy, some right prank they pulled… settin’ the wagon on fire.” (The sound is violent, gritting teeth, hatred sits on his breath.) “Not like it’d be the first time they pranked my parents… I was quite the surprise myself.”
(He loses himself in thought, distance settling upon his posture.)
“I’m sure it was them… Will o’ the wisps, I swear to you I saw them…”
(He shakes, quite physically, transitioning in too-quick of a movement into a sly pose, hands on hips, cheeky and gaudy. A guise has been set back up into place) “I’m messin’ with you, trust! Ain’ no such thing as a fable, that’s what my parents told me…”
“But, well, the Star Seers just… Lived too kindly a life. No questions asked, just hard work and sweaty brows.” (A bright thumbs-up) “Yeah, ‘s all horseshit.” (A glance shared towards her steed)
”No offense…”
(His speech ramps up, getting quicker by the second) “Anyways, I split! A lone-ridin’ Falstoner. By choice, of course. Not many o’ my people are kindly to be around to those of us who like to make their lives easier on themselves… And I may have wracked up a couple wanted posters here and there… I guess you could call me a petty thief if you were trying to be RUDE but I’d just consider myself, hmm…”
(he taps his chin, considering. The word dawns, he makes it evident in the way his body language lights up)
”A big game hunter, with a side of gatherer~!” (He snaps a finger) “I cannae eat the game I hunt, y’see… Dunno if anyone’s tried to consume a Fey…” (he considers, you hear the distinct sound of someone licking their lips)
“So, I fill my belly with some stolen bread—figure I need it more than the merchants given the public services I perform, and I make my merry way onwards… Leading me, well, here!” (He seems proud of himself, standing high on his toes)
“On the run? Nah, It’s just a new realm of new game to hunt. ‘S all…” (he clears his throat, beginning to grow antsy) “A pleasure, darlin’, but I should be makin’ haste.”
(A wave with just his fingertips, and a blown-kiss from his mask) “Toodles~!”
Usage of AI to generate, modify or translate the writing on your application will result in denial of your whitelist. There will be no chance to re-apply afterwards.
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Character Name: Tarvoch Canavan
Character Race: Fey-Touched
Character Age: 23
Brief Physical Description:
Short and slender, sitting just below the average at 5’2 but elevated in semi-functional platform leather boots. Tarvoch boasts a jester-like ensemble fused with the fastenings of your traditional rogue. Puffy multi-colored sleeves embroidered in moon and star markings allude to the Star Seers, though on closer inspection are shoddily-stitched in an attempt to mimic as opposed to being the genuine article.
A wooden mask bleached by the sun sits over his face, split into a classic comedy smile. You can just barely see his almond skin peeking through parts of his leather armor. He makes a deliberate attempt to hide the bark that fuses into his skin, opting for long gloves and a hooded cloak to hide those features. His hair is short, messy and caramel, and is often hidden by his hood that branches off into two jester’ twin-hoods.
A dagger or two sit in holsters around his legs and his cloak is fitted with a shocking amount of pockets for nick-knacks and stolen goods. Pouches line his many belts and thieves’ tools lay not-so-subtly tucked behind his slightly pointed ears.
On the rare chance the mask is lifted, his features are deceptively youthful. Tarvoch is comedically incapable of growing facial hair, but keeps the whiskers in a desperate attempt to have something. His star-golden eyes lack pupils and irises, as do the rest of the fey-touched. Freckles pepper his skin gently, and his features are always stretched into an off-kilter grin.
Skin: I have a custom one in progress, for now though I'm using this skin as a placeholder :]
