OOC
Minecraft Username: domewarrior6
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes!
Have you read the rules? (Link): Mhm!
(Optional) Were you referred by someone? If so, who: Neji specifically and Doc Eukaryote indirectly. [Dunwater Community]
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins):
—
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)? (150 words minimum - please make sure to include some references to our lore in your response!)
— Guhh, what a grueling journey!! Sleepless circles knit beneath Iula's eyes, her thighs felt of pincushions, and her scalp itched from untended grime. Yᴜᴄᴋ. Iula's stomach felt like a cauldron, tumbling and twisting, dangerously feeling as if it'd bubble over the brim of her lips. That's it. She had to stretch her legs. It began slowly, as do all good things, before the decisive action, where -with a few synovial 'snaps' and laborious movement- Iula swung both legs parallel and furled one atop the other. It was as if two fallen treetrunks had gnarled themselves in embrace. ᶜʳᵉᵉeAᵏᵏ!! Her brow twitched; the crook of her mouth piqued in frustration, and a flurry of Rulan rose seeped into her cheeks. Oh, come on!! She barely moved the damn things! It wasn't her fault these cart benches weren't designed for ladies of a little 'larger' stature! ᴴᵘʰʰ? Her attention swung towards the voice, and her gaze fell upon the sunken-cheeked sunspotted elder. A flash of rage knocked against her skull. Just wHatT!! did this person wan--?!
". . ."
Warmth. The lady wore a face that could melt yak butter: sweet, nurturing, with no more judgment than a particularly curious skink. Iula's nostrils flared, thereby releasing a deep sigh of self-disappointment. Dirt-mackled fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, and she shut her eyes tightly to stem any tears. Geez, Iula, were you really going to bark at someone's Babwa? The hand fell slack: her sinuses suddenly felt ablaze, and the old woman kept speaking. "Tell me my dear, why have you come to the Reach?" It's a question she's unprepared for, something that pummels the skull: reels her with self-doubt, criticism, and loathe. Whether among fellow Greatlings or Nua Sidhe, she'd always felt out of place. Frankly, this lady didn't look like one of her ilk-- lest she be so within her years that her height and width had contracted greatly, so why ought Iula answer? She could hear the elders' words rattle about her head, condemning her for communing with non-Greatlings, much less traveling with them! But, by the Hells, what fate could be worse than this ostracism? Here, deep below the mountains, far from hearth and home.. Her mind began to wander: how had Fjarold fared at this year's games, d-did Djipne still have that prized goat, or perhaps Mjorlin that luxurious lavender shawl? Her teeth gritted and her palms slipped themselves into matted messes of greasy flaxen hair. Stars above, just how long had it been?
A voice pounds at her psyche, loud and looming, the thunderous bellows of a matriarch, with an oppressive lumbering cadence that's unmistakable for the Greatling woman.
["Iula, you are an Ironhoof no longer."
. . .
"M-mom?"]
Iula wraps herself in her embrace, hands rubbing her shoulders for warmth. Her almondine eyes stare against the mud-covered boots of another carriage passenger and, with soft-spoken lilt, concluded--
"Because it was my choice."
Character Name: Iula 'Yula' Marci Louane Briarbottom
Character Race: Greatling
Character Age: 32
Brief Physical Description: Iula possessed a surprisingly sinewy body for her size. Two prominent horns sprouted from her hair, which itself was a bundled mess of podzol moors and tresses that more eagerly resembled a jungle than the mountains from where she hailed. A two-toned monstrosity, the front was so pale that it seemed as if someone had smacked her face with a dollop of clotted cream. Lastly, her skin was a deep swarthy tone, a complexion rich in hue and dotted with a broadside smattering of freckles.
