OOC
Minecraft Username: Five_
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes
Have you read the rules? Yes, and accept them too.
Referred: thiefclass
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): uhhh hello i’m shy 
i like tabletop roleplay and also mineman...
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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)?
"I come from a small community at Marion's Port's outskirts," He misspeaks. "I was raised by my grandmammy, since both of my parents died at sea." A quiet 'heh' escapes his lips in awkward apprehension, followed by an insult laced in regret to himself in quiet defeat.
Memories come to him in a burst of nostalgia, as years of her tender care come to mind. The idyllic innocence nurturing ignorance, a child turned into a man sheltered not just from the larger world, but the dangers and difficult questions of life itself.
"I stayed with her till the very end," he continues softly, his voice distant and strained, each word lead in his empty stomach. "She was my world, y'know? But the blight, it took her slow. Each sunrise, it'd be a fast broken with hope and warmth, and without fail, each sunset I saw her fade and sag. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do but sit by her side." His fingers no longer fidget with nerves, but clench against his side, knuckles white. "After she passed… I reckon somethin' else went with her. The life we had."
A shadow of a smile passes through his face, flickering with the pain of fondness and grief. "Home didn't feel like home anymore, just a husk. I was driftwood, tending to the same old tasks; walking the shores for crabs and nailing down flagstaff and strake. It just didn't feel right."
He clears his throat, the misery bubbling up his thoughts cast aside for another night. With a smirk he shrugs, and with his tongue, he tuts.
"So I left. Figured the Reach had the answers I couldn't find back there. And if it doesn't? Least it can do is keep me busy while I think of something else." His gaze softens, but remains distant, tethered to something far beyond the conversation. "The sea's never quiet anyways. Not in my head. Something h'weespers in my ear while I sleep. Siren Serene, or the mist, or grandmammy herself - I'm not sure - but it does sing to me. To keep looking, to keep searching."
He falls silent for a moment, considering if he has perhaps shared far too much. "So I'm still lookin', I suppose." He says, then adds in a much quieter tone. "For what, I'm not sure yet."
—
Character Name: Cassian Flynt-Bentham
Character Race: Human
Character Age: 24
Brief Physical Description: Hair kept short and practical, but swept with the wind and his nervous combing habits. His mustache is modest but well-maintained, the only sign of pride in his appearance. Blue-green eyes softened by melancholy, quiet submission, a face weathered with sea and loss. He stands at average height, with broad shoulders product of his work and a hint of a slouch. Dressed in practical clothing that shows plenty of use, suspenders holding up stiff trousers faded with age, and a light, breezy tunic stained with wood varnish. Cracked, sturdy leather boots. His arms and neck sport faint scars and marks, remnants of an idle mind and shipyard's accidents. On his hands and across calloused palms more scars and more marks.
