OOC
Minecraft Username: Wonderbat_
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes (I am 24 years old)
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes (Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: I was recommended by a friend. Their name is Ev1scero
(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins):
Greetings, my name is Wombat, Fatal, or FatalWombat. I am 24-year-old Canadian, and I've been an off-and-on member of MCRPING communities since I was fourteen. I enjoy hobbies such as creative writing, recently perspective drawing, and a long-time lover of guitar. I don't have any available screenshots, but I also do skins and have built numerous little regions throughout my time RPING. The ladder being one of my favourite pass times on Minecraft.
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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?)
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"Ah, well, yes, I've come from the south. This coastal city is reminiscent of home."
"Hm" She taps a finger on her chin "A coastal city you say? Are you from Sirensong?"
"Nay, not quite, my father was, but I was born elsewhere"
"Oh, so you're Mistan, alright" She takes another second to think. "Are you from the Eagle Isles?"
"The Pearl Islands, specifically the Little Pearl"
"Angler or Sailor?" She inquires, snapping on the reins, a feint "nay" is heard from one of the horses.
"A bit of both. 'Suppose when the rations run dry, you're thirsty for some fishes" Lewis pauses for a second recalling the question asked, and glances out towards the road leading into the gate. A Greatling beside snorts loudly like a bag full of rocks and squash. He scolds him with a side-glance on him then recognizes he is asleep and speaks again.
"I don't know why I feel so inclined to share much about myself with an old lady such as yourself, no offence. But in due time I hope to quickly establish a trading company. If luck permits. I even write a little poetry some time to time".
"Sounds like an ambitious goal you've got there."
"I guess so, say, what can you tell me about the Spire? The people in it?"
"Well The Spire itself is oldest monument with the village being founded around it."
"And who is the Lordship?"
"There isn't a specific Lord. It's run by a council of four. Now I believe we're approaching soon."
She finished, tilting her head off towards the road. As the wheels on the wagon caught the odd rock alongside Lewis remembered his times sailing with his old friends from childhood, sailing the shorelines of Mistan archipelago. The southern ocean's breeze ruffles through their hair, and sails waving in the wind. The salty waters splash against the bow of their ship and baritone of sea chanteys ringing through their ears. Those days were long behind this sailor now, and as he approached the Spire questions of its origin sprout in his mind. "Where did it come from?" "How was the township founded?" "What is this mysterious missing people I caught whispers about?" "Are the women pretty?" "Why does this Greatling beside me smell so bad?"
Character Name: Lewis Belarion
Character Race: Human - Mistan
Character Age: 35
Brief Physical Description: There stands a man with a grizzly visage. His dusty sand-coloured coat catches wind at his legs and his crimson sash fastened across his chest keeps the mid-section snug. His signature moustache is thick and oily curling up like that of his half-smirk that pisses off a local guard and charms their wife in one foul swoop. His brown hair unkept and short, and his eyes a dimly grey. A menace.
