OOC Minecraft Username: MemesAndGlory Are you at least 18 years old?: I'm 22 Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes (Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Through Caleb(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: Not played MC in a long time but knew Caleb from old RP servers maybe 5+ years ago, not sure what his IGN is now (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): I was part of the RP community from like 2014 onward, my interest fizzled out around 2019 and I've not really done any RP in this decade. I've ran lots of RP servers as well as played them so think I have a fairly good idea of how it works, although I think my roleplay will be fairly rusty as I've not done it in a while, and my job doesn't involve any creative writing. — 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?)   The rhythmic lull of hoofbeats echoed like a marching drum as Forsker sat in the wobbling wagon, his large frame taking up more than his fair share of space. The rolling plains of the Southern Reach stretched endlessly around him, the clear sky a stark contrast to the stormy memories that had brought him here. The buzz of excited chatter from the other pioneers washed over him, but his mind wandered to his former life—his struggles, his failures, and the winding path that had led him to this moment. “Nervous?” Forsker grunted, pulled from his thoughts by the voice of a kindly older woman seated nearby. Her warm smile and crinkled eyes held a familiarity that put him at ease, though her question stirred a pang of unease in his chest. “I can tell it’s your first time. Still remember mine,” she said with a grin, leaning in slightly. “Tell me, my dear, why have you come to the Reach?” Forsker hesitated, his deep yellow eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. He wasn’t used to sharing his story, but something about the woman’s demeanor made him feel safe. “I was cast out,” he began, his voice low and rumbling. “From my clan, the Stonerunners. They valued strength and tradition, and I didn’t measure up.” He paused, his calloused hands resting on his knees. “I wandered for years, taking whatever work I could find. Guarding caravans, hauling cargo, even guiding explorers through the mountains. But I never stayed in one place for long. I didn’t belong anywhere.” The woman nodded, her expression thoughtful. “And now?” Forsker glanced out at the plains, his gaze distant. “I was hired by a group of Valks—merchants, explorers. They needed security for a voyage to the Reach. For the first time, I had the chance to sate my curiosity. But the storm...” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “The ship was destroyed. I washed up here, alone. The Valks are scattered, most likely picked to the bone by whatever monsters lurk beneath the seas.” He turned back to the woman, his expression resolute. “I came to the Reach because it’s familiar, yet new. A place where I can start over. Maybe find a way to prove myself, not to my clan, but to myself.” The woman smiled softly, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve already come so far, my dear. The Reach is a land of opportunity, and you’ve got the strength to carve out your place here. Curiosity isn’t a weakness—it’s a gift.” Forsker nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. The wagon rolled on, carrying him toward his next adventure. — Character Name: Forsker Character Race: Greatling (Stonerunner) Character Age: 32 Brief Physical Description: Forsker stands at 6’9”, noticeably shorter than most Greatlings, a fact that has haunted him since his youth. His frame, while still broad and muscular, lacks the imposing bulk of his kin, giving him a leaner, more agile appearance. His skin carries a deep green-grey undertone, dotted with faint freckles that spread across his shoulders and arms. His eyes, a striking yellow with vertical pupils, gleam with curiosity and a hint of melancholy, often scanning his surroundings with a sharp, observant gaze. Forsker’s dark, almost black hair is tied back into a thick braid, streaked with a few strands of grey, a sign of the stress and hardship he’s endured. His lower jaw sports a pair of small tusks, a trait common among his Stonerunner clan, though they are less pronounced than those of his kin. His hands are calloused from years of labor, and his movements carry a quiet confidence, belying his insecurities about his stature and abilities.