Minecraft Username: kassicus
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes, I am 24!
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes
(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Through my friend! miiyrth
(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: Miiyrth
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins):
Hiya!
My name is Kass, and I'm 24. I've been writing and story-telling for many years now with my good buddies, and I find it to be my favorite pastime.
When I really get into a character/storyline, I love to draw character designs and scene sketches. Hopeful to do the same here!
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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?)
At first, Eivor doesn't realize that the old woman was referring to him.
He seems to be distantly lost in his mind, face mostly shrouded by a tattered brown hood. Scales flick up his cheekbones, flecking around his eyes and disappearing behind the makeshift shadows of his clothing. Pale reddish-pink eyes, lacking any form of a pupil, dart toward the voice. "Do you always talk this much?" He mutters with an annoyed gruff, making no move to sit upright or fully face her. As if conversation is already a drag, he busies himself by sharpening a blackened dagger on the edge of a dull whetstone. Though, despite his rudeness, the woman doesn't seem to be taking his silence as an answer. Finally, Eivor gives in.
"Family's from the pits of the volcanoes. Fireborne." He says sharply, a clear bite in his tone. "Parents so proud of their heritage, but not of their son." Eivor seems reluctant to share much more than that, but he can feel the eyes on him. "They can take their dragon and shove it-" Though he's cut off as the wagon hits a pitfall, causing them all to jolt. He grits his teeth with annoyance, thumb nicked with a thin string of red. He wipes it off briefly on his cloak. "I hunt." It's clear there's a bit more to it than that, but he's unlikely to share. "Looking for other hunters. Didn't fit in much up there with the rest, if you'd believe it." Finally, he looks to the old lady. "I hear of merchants - the Valkyians - that travel often, and could use the occasional protection for coin. See where it leads me." That look she gives him has Eivor quickly return to his meager task, a reminder of why he tends to keep his mouth shut.
"...Maybe Fallstone instead." He mutters, mostly to himself now. Thumbing over the blade in his palm, scales catching the light. "The rich tradin' typically can't fight worth shit." His hand slips into a worn satchel by his side, calloused finger brushing over the smooth surface of a black stone, attached to a rusted chain; a nervous habit, it seemed. He isn't sure what possesses him to continue the conversation, but the hum of the gem causes him to bite. "...You wouldn't happen to know where I should search for a particular type of beasts. The Ashelands are wastes of nothing but suffocating winds and scorching sun. And I need the Fey. The real Fey." Not this monstrous curse he'd been born into. But his mother always told him, before their relationship had violently altered; she came to me in a dream. That's how I knew I was pregnant with you. She touched you. The Fireborne.
He needed to find her.
Eventually, uses the blade to dig something free from sharpened canines, spits it to the side, then leans back against the wagon; returning to cherished silence.
—
Character Name: Eivor
Character Race: 50/50 Fey-Touched (fire & volcanic heritage) and Greatling
Character Age: 25
Brief Physical Description:
Eivor is on the muscular side, a warrior. He gains his height from his father - a Greatling - giving him the imposing height of 6'7; the minimum for giant kind, but certainly a side-effect of his Fey curse. His skin is a pale rose-red, marred by thick, rough scales across his cheekbones, around his eyes, up his arms and hidden beneath loose clothing. The edge of the scales are flecked lightly with black, along with the tips of his fingers and toes; finalized with talons. On his head, horns curl back from his temples, with the most prominent ones reaching directly and small offshoots curling around the backs of his ears. His eyes are a solid, fiery red. Finally, his hair. He has rough facial hair, scuffed and scarred; similarly, his hair - which grows abnormally fast - is hastily cut short; shaved by the sides and messy on the top; and the color of coal.
