OOC
Minecraft Username: VixereVaporub
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes
Have you read the rules? (Link): Affirmative
(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: A certain friend talked about the server enough for me to get interested
(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: By apopleptic_atom, in a way
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): Hi, you can just call me Vix! It's been a long time since my first foray into MCRP (a little over a decade) and now I come armed with actual experience informed by TTRPGs of all kinds over several years. While this is familiar territory to me, similar to the West Marches of DnD and the like, I'm excited to be stepping into something just a little different from my norm! :o)
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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?)
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.
With their eyes closed, Gan-Erdene was immersed in the surrounding hustle and bustle, body gently swaying with the rover's rhythm. They could have fooled themselves into believing it was Faerie's Eve if it wasn't so warm—that snow was on the horizon, that mutton and wine were aplenty, and that lanterns were spiriting their secrets away until they need not be secret anymore. Not that they lasted very long anyway, usually thwarted by one's own pot-valiance. Besides, only children really put an effort into upholding those little traditions.
Gan-Erdene wasn't one of those children, but sometimes they wished they were. That could've been their lantern.
Ruby eyes flash open, at first looking out to the horizon before turning to the elderly voice, their rigid gaze slowly softening at the sight of her, alongside the fading visions of "home."
Nervous? They shift on their seat, hammerhead on one shoulder and its handle between their legs, arms crossed above their knees. "Of the merriment, perhaps. It can make fools of men, and if not, it blinds them to danger. But having been lulled nearly to rest, it isn't my place to criticize. Rather, I should apologize," or so they bluntly assert, as if they were a part of this caravan's retinue of guards. "The first time is no excuse to be so lax."
At her next question, they hesitate, turning away from the woman once more to consider the crowd and their answer. And on top of that, whether to answer her at all.
Snakeskin chafes against clothe as their arms crossed tighter, joining forces with a northbound gaze to remind them of the murky place they truly came from, and further still the place they were given away—the swamps south of the Violet River, and The Wall opposite. They gulped a bitterness down their throat as they remembered being so much smaller. Listening to voices so foreign, despite their own once sounding the same. Feeling a stranger's hand over theirs, trying to soothe them. Watching their mother cry.
They took a heavy breath. This was, perhaps, the closest to home they'd been within the last few years. And yet, despite memories of the great, looming Wall, one couldn't even see its crown of Valkian flags from here. They're past Albern Crossing now, and only a suggestion of the marshland lies in the distance. Instead, their focus was drawn toward a spear from the heavens.
Looking out of a window, Gan-Erdene finally answers. "To be frank, I am caught between multiple worlds. The swamps, the steppe, and those of man, and of the ether. I fear I belong in none, no matter how charitable they may be. The Spire, with its strange allure, stranger peoples, and even stranger origin—or lack thereof—is alike myself, yet it has found its place in the world. Perhaps the idea borders on superstition, but I hope that I'd be able to do the same, whether around it or otherwise."
"In short," they continued after a soft chuckle, "I'm on my way home."
—
Character Name: Solongogiin Gan-Erdene (saw-zhung-keen gone-air-den)
(matronymic) (given)
Character Race: Half Arsa Sidhe / Half Fey-Touched
(I imagine this makes the most sense for a character that was more recently Fey-Touched, rather than being born to Fey-Touched parents)
Character Age: 22
Brief Physical Description: A Walljack adopted into a Falstoner caravan who inherited the height and stature of their parents despite the curse of a fey. They wear a head of black hair streaked with blonde strands. Standing at 6'5", their lean build contrasts the war hammer they wield, their skin an earthy brown despite being concealed beneath loose layers of clothing and a patchwork of armor pieces. Similarly hidden away are the patches of dark snakeskin along their arms and legs, but try as they might, they couldn't hide the telltale sign of their lineage—a pair of entirely ruby-red eyes, caught between a large headband and a scarf that covers the rest of their face. Without those head coverings, however, one is most likely to encounter a stoic look or a scowl.
Image of Skin and Figura Model:
