OOC
Minecraft Username: Ottorintsu
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yea.
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes
(Optional) Were you referred by someone? If so, who: Pyrias
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): I'm from Brazil
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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)? (150 words 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.)
The man appears to be sitting at the very back of the carriage, donning a simple gambeson clad in a red-and-black tabard. His long blonde hair, tied in an impossibly long braid that easily reached his hips, barely moves with the windy draft coming from the outside of the vehicle. Despite his apparent aloofness, the Elf seems incapable of keeping idle hands, drumming his fingers along the wooden surface of the carriage windowsill, two-toned verdant eyes peering to the wilderness above. Once the woman leans in, however, he turns to face her in turn; golden earrings dangling briefly with the motion.
"What? Oh."
The man spoke Common like any Valkian would, lacking a discernible accent. Even still, it may have been a surprise, given his rather obvious Elven heritage, between the dirty-blonde locks, the longer hair, and the well-adorned pointy ears.
"Yeah. This is my first time leaving the Realm's borders. Thought I had it all figured out where I was in life," He punctuates, almost as if reminiscing. He reaches an elbow to lean against the wooden lip of the carriage window, a gloved hand supporting his sun-kissed visage. "My uncle was a Knight-Captain in the Red Fists. Nicknamed the 'Griffin Knight', 'cause his name was Griff. Pretty creative, huh? Sure you've heard of him." A dry chuckle heralds the equally dry irony of the remark. He didn't seem to mind talking away, perhaps to idle away the hours more effectively. They had a long trip ahead of them, after all..
"--Well, his name in Elvish is actually Grufydd, but just about everybody just called him 'Griff'. Easier to pronounce, especially for folk who don't speak the Ancient Tongue. But I digress. Anyways, old uncle became a big deal, and so everybody else in the family got to reap the benefits. Dad's low-paying merchant job got significantly more business, and people would call him 'sir' whenever he was out and about working in the city. When I was a kid, I admired Uncle Griff, of course. Wanted to be like him, I guess." He chuckles.
"So I became a squire. Worked hard to try and make it to the Red Fists one day, 'serve the Emperor'. No greater honor, right? Well, I made it." There was a hint of vitriol in his tone, a quiet bitterness that was made apparent by his quiet scoff.
"It's a glorified bodyguard job, really. Years of arduous weapon training, conditioning, military strategy.. Only to sit around and stand guard while one Princess or Duchess or another goes about picking flowers or going about her day. It was boring. So boring in fact, that once I served my minimum year tenure, I quit." He remarks a bit bluntly, going to faff his hand dismissively. It seemed he was expecting to be chastised for it, even now.
"Call me arrogant, but I don't think Uncle Griff made the right call. Sure, he's a 'Lord' now, but his job wasn't too different from mine. I don't want to sit around and wait for a few decades before I can do something more than stand by a doorway. I'm here to.. expedite the process, so to speak. Make a name for myself, maybe stake out a piece of land, be my own man. I know there's more in store for me than that, and I'm not gonna sit by and enjoy whatever cushy privilege somebody else earned for me."
He sighs, as if talking had strained him a little, or perhaps he was merely out of breath. Still, there was a lingering grin unto his features--he was gladdened by the idea he could get it all off his chest.. Or perhaps, the sight of the Spire in the far distance caused his anticipation to well up. A sense of adventure, one he's never lost. One he was never willing to sacrifice in the first place.
".. By the way, I'm Ardghal. Nice to meet you."
—
Character Name: Ardghal Lachlann
Character Race: Arsa Sidhe
Character Age: 28
Brief Physical Description:
Standing at the imposing height of 7', Ardghal is the tallest an Elf can be. Similarly, he lacks the lither frames usually present in those of Elven heritage, having a much more muscular and well-built physique from a lifetime of martial training and squireship. Rather than wear fancy or adorned clothes, the man prefers to adorn himself to a smaller extent with jewelry and the like, especially earrings, and is often seen wearing militaristic or practical fashion, such as gambesons and tabards, as well as armor whenever he is to face combat. His hair is a mane of golden, darker blonde tresses which are impossibly long, having never cut it for most of his life. As a result, they are often braided in a manner that makes his braid reach nearly the back of his thighs in length. He is almost always seen armed, whether it be with a small blade or his preferred weapon of choice, the imposing greatsword, befitting of his impossibly tall stature.
