[!]A torn scrap of yellowed paper, with scrawled handwriting familiar to a few. HAND-SIGN CLASSES FOR CROWNSSeek me out at the Library if interested.= 'Hurricane' ...a smaller, maybe ruder note at the bottom of the page-- almost a warning.I WILL NOT TEACH FOOLS. AND I OWE NO KNOWLEDGE TO ANYONE.

‘Hurricane’*VERY WIP “The brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storm.” Name: ‘Hurricane’ Age: 21 Race: Human Culture: Valkyian Sexuality: Sapphic, uninterested in romance. Appearance ‘Hurricane’ wears a heavy linen cloak, now stained. It’s unclear what they wear under the cloak, as their arms and body are usually obscured by it. Little glimpses suggest they wear simple black clothes that lean towards a combative look/nature, and gloves conceal their hands. They don’t seem well put together, and don’t care for many formalities. Still, there’s a reserved kindness beyond the immediate glance over. Most importantly, ‘Hurricane’ wears a wooden mask. Most of the mask’s shape is owed to the bark clinging to it’s surface, with two pieces of torn bark sticking up awkwardly at the top. Thin white felt covers the eye sockets of the mask, allowing ‘Hurricane’ to see with some limitations. Story TBD Relations &Thoughts Olivier An odd woman. I find myself growing far more indebted to her as time passes.Bug… Amicia The girl has her head on straight, and her heart in the right place.Your curiosity may get you killed. Petrus Smart, seemingly powerful. If she trusts you, then you can't be that bad.I'm not sure I'm right for the job... Helara Just as generous as the rest of the spire. Similarly odd.Strange choice for a meal.

[!]   The figure with the prey mask can be seen skulking around town with a smudge of blood on their tattered cloak. Now brown after drying. You’re not sure if it’s theirs.   []

I completely missed that last section, my google document put it on a different page-- it's there now! I tried expanding on the 'Lady of the Lake' part in an effort to make it more in depth, I hope it's better now! Thank you for responding to me :]

OOC: Minecraft Username: Misttixx Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes! Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes!(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Through a friend!(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: Neji101 (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): INTERSTELLAR ALIEN CRASH LANDING NEAR YOU !!!!I’m Misti and I have a penchant for MCRP!! I’ve been playing with various groups and on a variety of servers for some time now and I’m always trying to broaden my horizons and meet new roleplayers/people. I am an independent artist and I do freelance commissions in my spare time !! I tend to hop from one medium to the next, but I most commonly work with digital art using CSP or Blockbench for more Minecraft-centered ideas and projects. — 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?” RESPONSE: ‘Hurricane’ averts their gaze whilst leaning away from the woman, a grumble bubbling up their throat. From years of misuse, speaking now would only equate to that of a screeching, untuned violin. What use was there in talking, anyhow? This woman is still a stranger.Regardless, Hurricane can only be reminded of the woman who previously sheltered them after fleeing their hometown. Nesria. Despite her background, Nesria had been fairly tame for a Falstoner. Hurricane had only rumors of mischievous tricksters to base their immediate impressions of her, and found them misplaced. They’d pondered if the change was due to her old age, but never found an appropriate means of asking about Nesria’s life. The village lights that bubbled in the distance from her cottage seemed friendly enough, they’d settled on thinking of that when having to enter the village to find a Mortician. Following their own customs, they would have much preferred to burn Nesria’s body– but Nesria was not their kin. Unable to know if their actions may be misconstrued with the superstitious Falstoners, they settled on a hopefully more traditional means of burial. They squinted, eyeing the older woman with a new– though somewhat forced– perspective. Hurricane’s hands twitch, hesitant to try and communicate. They sit up straighter, groaning. It’s not like they fit the typical image of a Valk either. Though they couldn’t discern the woman’s heritage. In a few moons, they’d be missing the first festival of the year. They could only remember attending as a child, before the pilgrimage started. They scrunched up their nose at the thought, thankful their face was covered. They’d sworn off all religion after escaping that hellscape, further alienating them from their heritage– Hurricane had no kind words for the Lady of the Lake. After all, it was her mother who had abandoned the belief to follow that cult into the setting sun. They were too young to know any better. Or, maybe they’d known too much, too young. Naturally skeptic, Hurricane found the abandonment of their family’s previous life in search of a woman who most seemed unsure of her appearance, put lightly, insane. But the man who led the group had a way with his words. A fire burned brightly in his eyes, no matter if he could not inspire the same in everyone he met, the few who he did grew feverishly loyal. It’s impossible to quell that fire, no matter what they tried in the effort of reason, it was in vain. Tired eyes settled on the old woman once more. It’d be rude to keep the woman waiting any longer. They conjured up their brittle voice, muttering. “...Just going where the wind takes me.” — Character Name: ‘Hurricane’ Sage Marrero Character Race: Human, Valkyian Character Age: 21 Brief Physical Description:  A stout human, draped in linen to obscure their figure. They’re not one for words, often trying to communicate with their hands, or by way of writing. Barely carved, a wooden mask rests upon their face, the bark sticking up awkwardly in two spots at the top. Some say it creates an illusion of some sort of prey animal.