Hello! There were a few things I made sure to mention, although many are still part of the Mistian culture despite also having their own separate page. This includes the fabled Siren, the Misty Isles (mentioned as just the Isles in the story), along with a brief mention of the Falstoner culture and the desire to travel somewhere where even they hadn't reached yet as a part of Tika's coming of age ceremony. Hope this helps! Let me know if you need me to pull the direct quotes to point these mentions out. I tried to mention them in a manner that seemed fitting of an in character interaction rather than a lore drop, so I'm not entirely sure that it was clear enough. Thank you for your patience! 

OOC Minecraft Username:   Hellatious Are you at least 18 years old?:   Yes Have you read the rules? (Link):   Yep! I liked the roleplay quality standards specifically, having gotten trapped in super slow low quality rp far too many times myself. (Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?:   A buddy bragged about the server.(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username:   GROGGURT (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins):  Hello, I'm Hella. I'm a fan of fish keeping, plants, and artistic endeavors. Here's some pictures of my pet shrimp and a set of characters I once played with a friend.      — 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.   Sat off the back end of the wagon, a little fey-touched watched as wistful mangroves blent into the horizon. Fingers pensively picking at muddy red scales along their upper arm. Whilst they had been assured their kind was welcome among the caravan they had a hard time fully believing it. Between the scorn of their prior crew and the greedy, Siren-cursed outpost they had been ditched in? Tika found themself frequently casting watchful glances over their shoulder. Featureless fiery eyes taking in all that could pose a threat. On one such occasion, Tika caught the gaze of an older woman who had been watching over them for some time. Someone clearly so far from home just as they were.    “Nervous?” She asked. Her face was friendly. Kind wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes as she offered a smile. “I can tell it’s your first time. Still remember mine,”.    Hesitant at first, Tika scrunched their nose right back at her. Eyes narrowing in scrutiny as they looked the woman over. After a lingering moment they relented- a faint smile pulling at their weary features. “Ah- yes yes. I have, not been to the Reach before. No.. not yet!” With a burst of feigned bravery, Tika flashed a toothy grin.  The kind woman folded her hands atop her lap. Her gentle gaze taking in the silly display. “Tell me my dear, why have you come to the Reach?”   “Keh!” They snickered, playing evermore into a foolhardy sense of confidence. More so to reassure themself than anything else. “Ya see, I’m goin all sorts of places! It’s apart'a my ceremony! Ah- my journey? It's this adventure thingy that’s real important” Tika paused, pondering their words before waving a dismissive hand. “It’s a Mistan thing- yes yes. My Uncle told me all about it! He was real into that stuff. Says they went on all sorts'a adventures back in the Isles..” Once again the scrawny creature fell quiet. Careful thought poured through their very own quest. “I’ve, gotta go somewhere special. Somewhere not even them Falstoners tell stories of. Just you wait, missy! It’s gonna be grand~”   — Character Name: Tika Character Race: Fey-touched Character Age: 18 Brief Physical Description:  Tika is short and twiggy, her build reflective of an often poor diet. With toasty sun-graced skin marred by a splattering of clay red scales, it’s clear to see that she’s fey-touched far beyond her featureless amber eyes. She dons a sage grey button down worn by age. Charismatic patches of bright cloth mending its many wounds. Its once brilliant shining threads now dulled and sullied. One might notice that it's left sleeve is tied off part way down- the mark of an old accident. The only exception to her bedraggled attire is a maroon scarf with golden tassels. Whilst just as old, it’s clearly been maintained with a dutiful affection. Preserved against time itself. Among her strangest features are a mirrored set of nubs grown from her skull. Two tiny horns. A faint reminder of distant a heritage she knows little about.