To ensure the integrity of the application, I will post my amendment separate, unless found otherwise unhelpful. In which case, I would gladly edit the original. ---------------------------------------------------------- A truly insufferable congregation it was, overtly genial and raucous, back and forth discord stirred a storm of wordless perturbation beneath a hooded mind. The towering cloaked figure could hardly stand it, and with his patience tried mounts its crescendo, even at such a mellow-mouthed inquiry, a pair of gold foil orbs in eclipse send a side glance with peeled lids, narrowing over the shimmering irises, a pair of ardent rings. He hated to travel this way, though sadly, the odds were more favorable in numbers; far from the frigid north and fiery west, though no less hospitable. Fire and ice met at the precipice of those lands, and from their people came him, much to his dismay, a purposeless creature of ichor and iron, he could still see it in a past not too far gone. His expression warped beneath the shade of carriage and woven wool, concealing the meager twitch of one of his upper lids, his face like stone. Such was visage of vows broken and reforged, of silence and steel, into something else entirely. A shame, that he'd become the effigy of their disloyalty to both Korami and Dragon, duties forsaken, inculcating the roots of self-sequestration. To carry a tainted lineage bound in iron, both blood and blade, was a bitter bounty of burden; a birthcurse, blight of faithless forebears.  Finally, the flesh of his lips part on a cold breath inward, silently filling the lungs before the tongue leased his annoyance with stinging apathy. “No.” That much was true, there was nary an ounce of apprehension in his presence ever closer to The Spire. In fact, rather the opposite, expectance of another failure in finding faith or fortune, some semblance of fervor, some kind of purpose. The monolith of a man left her thusly, the singular word her only conversation as the sands of time were consumed again in the murky seas of subconscious, with his thoughts, a thumb brushed over cracks and crags of a long-burnt stone, its flammability since extinguished. A birthright as it were, the ritual stones, those of a Fireborne birth had left his being equally scorned and nugatory. He had to find his meaning, or perhaps, he was truly meant to have been forgotten.The Halfbreed offered nothing else, recusing himself in his reticence.   

OOC Minecraft Username: ObeisanceObscure   Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes.   Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes.   (Optional) Were you referred by someone? If so, who: Ottorintsu (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)? (150 words 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?)A truly insufferable congregation it was, overtly genial and raucous, back and forth discord stirred a storm of wordless perturbation beneath a hooded mind. The towering cloaked figure could hardly stand it, and with his patience tried mounts its crescendo, even at such a mellow-mouthed inquiry, a pair of gold foil orbs in eclipse send a side glance with peeled lids, narrowing over the shimmering irises, a pair of ardent rings. He hated to travel this way, though sadly, the odds were more favorable in numbers; far from the frigid north and fiery west, though no less hospitable. Fire and ice met at the precipice of those lands, and from their people came him, much to his dismay, a purposeless creature of ichor and iron, he could still see it in a past not too far gone. His expression warped beneath the shade of carriage and woven wool, concealing the meager twitch of one of his upper lids, his face like stone.Finally, the flesh of his lips part on a cold breath inward, silently filling the lungs before the tongue leased his annoyance with stinging apathy. “No.” That much was true, there was nary an ounce of apprehension in his presence ever closer to The Spire. In fact, rather the opposite, expectance of another failure in finding faith or fortune, some semblance of fervor, some kind of purpose. The monolith of a man left her thusly, the singular word her only conversation as the sands of time were consumed again in the murky seas of subconscious, with his thoughts, a thumb brushed over cracks and crags of a long-burnt stone, its flammability since extinguished. A birthright as it were, the ritual stones. He had to find his meaning, or perhaps, he was truly meant to have been forgotten.The Halfbreed offered nothing else, recusing himself in his reticence.      —   Character Name: Krešimir   Character Race: Greatling/Arsa Sidhe   Character Age: 29   Brief Physical Description: Atop the sinewy, seven Foot eight Inch figure rests a short horned countenance framed in fierce onyx locks, a pair of golden orbs beset within either orbital. Thick, ashen skin accents a bearded elven face strangely, even at two hundred and eighty pounds, the frame was far thinner than any Greatling, though no less densely packaged from meat to bone. The peaks of ivory protruding from nearest the forehead were barely two inches long, whitest near the roots, blackened at the sharpened points- seemingly trimmed akin the keratin of a fingernail. The skin is dotted with an occasional scar in various stages of healing, mostly on the face, arms and hands.