OOC Minecraft Username: Umami__ Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Ancient friends, haha, lol.(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: Wonderbat_ Eviscero (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): My reputation proceeds me. — 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 hunched aging man turns to the woman speaking to him, he's clearly not heard a word and simply stares past her. A noxious belch echoes from his gullet, the acrid stench wafting through the crowded wagon. "Bew'iful Siren, sing me yer song. Been ages since I've last 'eard a melody such as yers." The man slurs out, it seems he's been drinking for some time now. "Ne'er liked goin' on land... Too many..." He begins to trail off, a bump of the wagon wheel striking a rock seems to stir him into sobriety for a brief moment. "Were ye talking to me, miss? Ye old hag, how'd ye know i've a'ways a soft spot fer the aulder 'alf of the gent'er sex." Clearly not one for waxing poetic or captivating speeches. "Been bashin' Wog'ets o'er the 'ead with a club fer months since me ship were sunk, me crew'ates all a slewn, warshed ashore with not a coin to me name. Were climbed ha'fway up the riggin' when the mast were blew clean in twain by those damned go'erment sailors." He seems deeply saddened as he recalls the story, yellowed, drunken eyes appearing almost to well with tears. "Came upon a feller who tells me, 'e says. Take yerself te Si'ensong, there be work an' ye can make yerself an 'onest livin'." Another rancid belch, so horrid in stench one could imagine themselves seeing a dark cloud of vaporized booze float up into the canvas of the wagons covering. "I says to 'im, 'an 'onest livin' were ne'er fer me, but if theres 'onest folk, then there be lots fer the takin'." A cacophony of laughter erupts from the man, it seems explaining his intention to rob and plunder is quite humorous to him. The laughter ends as he spirals into a coughing fit, ending with the broken drunk launching a wad of phlegm into the distance, likely finding its home on the foot of some unfortunate soul. "But I doubt that were what ye were lookin' to 'ear." The salt brined man would chuckle to himself, growing softer until, by the grace of God, it would fade into rumbling snores, punctuated by the occasional bout of flatulence.  — Character Name: Patrick Jezebeard Character Race: Human Character Age: 48  Brief Physical Description: A grizzled and graying man, with a matted and often greasy beard, pocked skin, and wispy hair. About Five foot nine inches in height, though he'd appear taller were he to stand up and not be short a leg. In its place is a wooden stump. Reeking of fish and salt water, no matter how many times he bathes, though you might not know he did. Image of Skin and Figura Model: