OOC   Minecraft Username: Angstyboi   Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes.   Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes.   (Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: I noticed a friend of mine had the discord tag, then after browsing the site saw more familiar names.    (Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: N/A   (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins):    — 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 Hound’s attention was absorbed by all the little sounds, the harsh clink of wheel on stone, the metal grind of the axel, the sounds of birds, but the soft woman’s tone cut through it all. With her focus returned to her she observed the kindly woman hesitantly before offering her a nod, quiet, then a grunt followed by  shrug then a shake of her head. “Ahd’ Nae say m’nervous. Ehs more tired of the warm, I read once ehf you go far enough south ehs starts t’geht cold like th’North again, excited fer that- ehs the inbetween tha’-” Catching herself rambling, to a stranger of all things she grumbled, lowering her gaze and crossing her arms. “Ah guess m’a tad nervous. Seanmáthair.” She admitted so quiet, that calling it a whisper would be too loud. Pressed again by the elder she almost smiled, but caught herself, posturing so that self perceived vulnerability wouldn’t be caught by any gawkers. “Ahm lookin’ fer somethin new, ahn nothin’ newer than south’a th’wall. N’besides between y’ahn me Seanmáthair- a pesky wolf n’tha stars gave me a sign t’ead south. Y’call ehm th’Beast in the south. S’a bad day y’ignore a sign from th’stars, yeh get me?” The admission was again kept quiet, safe inside this strange comfort the elderly figure gave her to admit such a thing. The comfort enough she added, quiet again like it was some fragile secret. “Ahn ah ‘eard a story ‘bout tha’ Spire, the stone tree w’no leaves tha’ reaches n’ta the sky. Even ehf ah dunnae stay down ‘ere, seein tha’ thing would make th’ trip worth it.”    Her final expression, a soft little hope brought a half smile to her lips towards the old woman, after the warm moment shared had begun to fade the Hound had to remind herself that not everyone was so kind. Her fingers idly traced one of her scars as she kept her arms crossed and she fell back into her usual silence and that resting tense expression, glancing down the road to gauge how much longer the journey might be.  —   Character Name: ‘Hound’ Raeðan (Pronounced Ray-than)   Character Race: Half-Greatling   Character Age: 28   Brief Physical Description: Hound’s physique is that of starved bulk, her skin clings tightly to her muscles and she lacks much signs of body fat to the point it might seem dangerous but she shows no signs of poor health despite it. She sports a half shaven mop of dark brown timber hair with black edges and fringes which stands out against her pale northern skin tone and sharp sky blue eyes.. She favors wearing darker tones with the occasional pop of red in the form of a sleeveless coat, sash or hooded scarf. Her arms are always on display and sport various scars of claw and fang, and a few from more precise instruments.