OOC
Minecraft Username: Beetle_Knight
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yep.
Have you read the rules? (Link): Of course.
(Optional) Were you referred by someone?: St.Moth
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share: I've been into MC-RP for a while and discovered Avalore before it was launched. I meant to whitelist earlier but I was a lil lazy and busy (a deadly combination). At least I signed up to the forums before the launch date so I got a cool trophy. Anyways, I'm a creative person that dabbles in fiction writing and music, I've also filmed some goofy movies. Here's to another fifteen years of MC-RP!
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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 some references to our lore in your response!)
It wasn’t until then that Falliren realized he was fidgeting with a silver medallion hanging from his neck. For days, he had rolled the pendant with his fingers and studied its texture with a gentle thumb, all the while marveling at the openness of this new frontier. The elf stowed the medallion into his billowing shirt and returned a smile to the old woman.
“To find the Lady of the Lake,” Falliren joked, “I vowed to take my studies seriously but my adventurous disposition had other plans. I hope to clear things up and explain the dullness of mathematics; I’m really not the one at fault. Maybe then she’ll show some leniency to an oathbreaker.”
She guffawed, a laugh that defied her frail and aging body. “Oh, so you must be a Valk.”
“How could you tell?” he asked in friendly curiosity.
“Your kind is always on about honor, chivalry, and oaths,” she said, “Lady of the Lake, a student, and your pendant. Valk merchants like to have a lucky coin, fidgeting with it anytime they’re nervous.”
Falliren chuckled. “No, no, it’s not a lucky coin and I’m no merchant. Did you not hear how poor I am with maths? It’s just something I like to wear. Nothing mystical about it unfortunately.”
“Your clothes,” she pointed, “All that jewelry and color. Dead giveaway.”
Falliren let out a short laugh. “I suppose I made it quite obvious. But if you want to know why I’m really here, it’s rather simple. Fun! I ran out of it in the Valkian Realm. Family is such a tiring affair, especially when in service of the King-Emperor. And after I had conquered all the ballrooms and taverns in the capital, the city became such a bore. But now there’s a new frontier, an untapped well of possibilities, an open expanse that can fit all our ambitions. A place where anyone can make a name for themselves and grow.”
“Again, you just gave it away,” she said cheekily, “I’ve met enough Valkians to know how to read between the lines.
Falliren arched a brow. “Pardon?”
“I’m sure you’re here for the fun, but you gave away the true reason at the end. May the Sun shine on you and your endeavors, Arsa Sidhe.”
—
Character Name: Falliren Rytelus
Character Race: Elf/Arsa Sidhe.
Character Age: Appears to be in his early-mid twenties.
Brief Physical Description: A young elf with a typically Elven lithe physique, bedecked in a wide assortment of gems and jewelry that gilds a colorful set of clothes. Falliren has rather pale skin that is easily assailed by the Sun, stretched over his angular yet smug visage. He keeps his silvery hair cut to a medium length, fashioned to whatever style is in vogue at the time. His wide eyes are golden, much like the many rings shimmering on his delicate hands.
