OOC Minecraft Username: whiteiisted_ Are you at least 18 years old?: Yup! Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes :)(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Through a really reaaally cool friend of mine(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: UndertaleFTW1 (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): Hii!! I’m Juno, or also known as White (mostly) by my friends :) I’ve been running around writing roleplaying theatre-ing stuff since 2018!! Came here to be stupid and write and do shenanigans with my cool cool friends, that’s all. — 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?) — “To find a new home.” The young man looked back, mind drifting back to the current. Caught unexpected.!His cat-like eyes grazed on the wrinkled kind face, grey revealed over the waved strands of his black hair and brimmed hat. A smile touched the youthful greatling’s lips as his head tilted. “Somewhere permanent, hopefully. I’m tired of just wandering around.” His laughter echoed in the caravan. Excitement twinkling in his voice. It was like the sound of a double bass — lingering in the background — or at least, something similar to it.  His chuckle still ring in his tone, but it quieted down as he spoke. “Sorry, Miss, must be rude of me to not introduce myself, properly.” The greatling youth glanced back — an undeniable friendliness feigned on his expression — and reached out one of his hand, for a handshake; the other holding onto the hem of his hat. “The name Feng, Miss. I came from a tribe up in the Amafell.” His home where snow seems to fall endlessly. Where the winter fees eternal. He thought of his tribe then, where the people appear even colder than the climate. “My tribe is . . . not quite welcoming, though. They trade animals hide, you know? Sheeps, Goats, animals like that.” - “Still trying to survive there.” Isolationists, separated from the word, he does not have any words that would describe them better. Yet, he’s different from how they may have been percept as. He is, rather unlike the other children of the Grandmother Mountains. Full of warmth, and tenderness. It felt like even snow would melt at the sight of him. And above all, he left, that’s what made him different than the others that he would call brother and sisters, still back there — still protecting the Fara. “Though I hope, that they have soften somehow. Be more welcoming . . . be more like the Nyr. Or at least, open themselves at least like those that come from the Fyrir Confederation.” Feng laughed now. Though, not as lively as those that came before. He does miss home. He does miss the tingling touch of snow brushing on his skin — always numbing, always chilling. He misses the laughter of his people. He misses especially his Mother, his tribe’s Matriarch. Oh that stubborn woman who he ran away from — who didn’t let the people wander the world — who didn’t let him go. Feng sometime regrets deserting his tribe. Yet, if he didn’t run, he would have not been able to see the marvels of the world. From the sight of the grand fortress of Skykeep that were the first thing that he saw when he parts home . . . or the beautiful red that coloured the fields of Sanguifleur, with wine as crimson as the flowers that surrounded them. . . . maybe that’s why he didn’t dare to return home. To be barred once more. Maybe that’s why he seek for the Southern Reaches. Feng’s gaze shifted to the older woman now. She, already drifted off as he were deep in thoughts. The night is long, after all. Maybe, this is the kind of peacefulness he had hoped for. Character Name: Feng Character Race: Greatling Character Age: 25  Brief Physical Description: A runt — at least, compared to those of his race. Feng stands at around 6’9ft. His eyes, shaped like the eye of a cat, striking; a quiet grey lingered on his gaze, something like the silver of the snow that fell on his homeland. His hair is cut short, wavy, dawning the same hue as the twilight-sky. He looked a bit human compared to the other Greatlings — with the lack of horns, and tusks so tiny they are, barely noticable. Feng’s attire is plain, humble. Much similar to his simple personality. A long coat outside that keeps him warm, though not quite needed with his thick skin, and a dulled dress shirt, both accompanied by a belt. There’s nothing impressionable about him. Image of Skin and Figura Model: (Temporary outfit, skin made by me! No figura for him :()