Loose leaves and scrapped pages....  A Ripped Letter...Gan-Erdene,I do not know how to express myself in prose over you and hope that in plain writing I may be able to grasp it better. I worry how you speak of yourself- Perhaps unworthy of love, but I can only assume. When I ask of your past I can see you clam up, waiving an answer. I never know how to broach the topic. I hate to say it but I do not know of how you see yourself. I do not know you very well. I've never even seen your face.  Love and lust come far too easy to me. Matters of my heart are simple and quick, lasting little longer than a fling. I hope this character of mine does not dissuade you to believe there is true beauty in your soul. A reason to be liked and loved. I am grateful to be your friend, happy to stay as nothing more if it means I can be around you. Erdene, you make it easy to laugh and drink, easing my mind with a place to rest and play dice. You are endlessly kind for that and I will not forget it. I fear there are dark clouds over your head. Looming, swirling, ever present in your mind. It brings a storm that chips away at yourself, burying you in a lonely cold. I want to ask you to open your heart to me, so that I may look into your eyes and somehow help carry that burden. I'd like to know more about you. Even the parts that I sense you hate. I like it all. An Abandoned Poem... Love and lust come easy to me. They are friends that I know well.Laughter and crowns come easy with you.But you are a friend I've never met. Magic 101 Notes...Anima, Magic and Soul Ether, Force, Ichor, Tellurgy, Artifice, Cursesmithy No mortal can exist in the EtherThe Nocturne is the realm of dreams A Practice Poem...The season shifts, and the air grows colderFrom heatwaves and relentless stormsThe breeze brings a subtle chill As I look upon the dying trees, colors shifting green to redAll I look forward to is a lighter bagSoon my winter coat will be unfoldedAnd the chill of the mountains comes home to my heart A Derailed Story...A lonely dreamer lies beneath a bed of snow and despite the icy cold their heavy eyes and body felt hot. Too tired to move their gaze darted around the pale wasteland, between blinks and tucked behind the trees, they see a lady dressed in white. She hummed the strangest of tunes, something as haunting as much as it was beautiful. The sickly sweet song brought a blood rush to their cheeks, it beckoned them into her arms and tempted to strip. To lie with her meant respite and relief, a close connection grown stronger beneath the stars, Crude Notes and a Map...Healing, death, Safekeeping.  Something more to this   cluster(?)   —From a different time, a different space than the others. Think they know? She could do splendid things. See-others couldn't. Move ways others don'tTwo humans, lovers(?)Why have an Aedall memory crystal? — Why by the Spire?   —What in the Autumn Glades?What is the memory devourer?What were they trying to use safely? The crystals? The devourer? Both?

A collection of poems bound into a fluffy rabbit pelt book... Poetry for Gan-ErdeneYou ask I try at writingand share with you in readingThough I may be good with speaking from stories passed down, repeatingI fear my hands are shakingMy soft tongue's no good with meaning FaraThe cold bitesMy gaze pure whiteMy hands numb to graspMy feet like rocks, snow slowPeak of High Isle marks mid way Past that, the stars to be readPale Steed walks close butA snake bites tailLocked behind keyThesnake bitesAnd begs for change to free itbeneath lies thekey toleave The PastBuried in a little barrowlies flowers, brittle bone and marrowStars twinkle up aboveThe final sight for those belovedHarrow! Snow and rocks with babies buriednow dug out with rescue hurried Baijiu and GimletOne shot, two drinks,  three peoplewith family, regret, and steeplesTo the old and young, the large and smallthe Spire wears thin. That is its pitfallFor weathered storms and creaky bark,I fear my own past is more like a larkThe pains I left are light to compareWith astrolabes and oaths to declareToo easy to read, it's not hard to tellI'm seeking trouble, a life that's unwell MatriarchTwo warriors in the pit, bloodied and bruisedHalf-BrokenHalf-MadHalf-ConsciousThe glee on their face, it looks familiar,Like soft coos, long scoldings, and dinner Glittered dresses all stumbling on stageHalf-MenHalf-MaidenHalf-FlameTheir beauty and strength, it brings me somewhereTo candle lit halls and sports under stars In the language that one may speak, there is a nameHalf-DialectHalf-AccentHalf-DistanceIt goes something like Eejee, Ooka, and Mama Half-WarriorHalf-BeautyHalf-SpeechI know that is my Ana HauntingI sleep on the floor, an ear against boardsAnd in the night, I hear an old chordIn the wind, a voice can't be ignoredthat whispers of things I can't bear to record A DitchI find myself fallinginto a dark placethats grimy and dankpitch black and quite rank I find I'm weighed downmy burdens too heavyNow sore and aching,to climb is backbreaking I fear that I'm stucktrapped in my own graveTo die of starvationbefore I meet my damnation Between you and me When it comes to love and lust, my cards can go bustWhile over rum and mead, I don't have a lead I know not your face, not your skin, not your past Only your writing, your blood, and your bash Your heart and your eyes, Those I can't understandLeaves me blind, even with words in my hand I wish you could see, the you inside meand I wish I could meet, the you that you see Not even as lovers to lust over each otherSimply as friends that may like one another Stone Cold FigureThere was once a young child who was raised by a statuethat stood firm while weathering the harshest of stormsand figured a leader representing great virtueBut too tough was stone for youth to conform The statue stood proudly, revered as a monument As passersby pitied a child by its baseHad they been born stone family'd be a complimentBut instead they'd grown softer in seek of embrace They sunk into granite, the arms of their motherAs it stood still its gaze carved far awayFor if the stone broke the poor child would be smotheredand so the child melted for love to give way FleshCold nights are warmed by the heat of passionin a room where the air is heavy and staleThe smell of sweat and the taste of spitIt pulls away the face of your partnerTheir name is silentThere's no space in your throatWhat did you want more than their body?More than their name?More than their face? The WhaleWhite eyes replaceruby red gaze.Body broken, cut, bonesshattered under skin. Worse yetshadows in your vision. Looming largeBlinding the smell of burnt cinnamon andleft lost, dazed, confused, and angry. Ill preparednobody knew it would end like this. Cooped upin a tent by a box with a petrified finger.An octopus named Averie, a servant of the whale, took five people. Nyree, a pale giant, she is the curse giver, hand forcedby her mother. Not to be trusted. People turned into liquid, battered by shells, slammed by tentacles. What can you do in a sea full of pains, visions, and membrane crawling over your skin. Come hometo be mended, carried to your bed and washed of blood and agony. I'll sit by your side to hold your hand and say I'm here. I won't eat, nor sleep, nor leave your side,not until I know you're better.Not until this curse lifts.Heavy is the weight of my heart, my head, and my eyes. Untitled Poem - Written in Greatling RunesJealousy hangs in the back of my throatA cloying feeling that tastes sweet like rum and cookiesA sickly sensation that feels like blood and bruisingFables fuck. What is wrong with me?It's almost depraved, desperate, plain sad I want you to look at meThe same way you look at themWith bloodlust, kindness, and affectionI want your touchIn the same way you want to touch themWith the rage and hammer you cling toI want your name One that only I can useWith some sort of praise and affection I want you Why does love grow strongerwhen I don't want it? AutumnThe seasons are a fickle thingBringing heatwaves and storms alikeNow the air is calm, breeze slowly chillingAnd all I see is red upon a lark Now in my bag lies a heavy coatStill burdensome, too soon to unfold But soon the red will turn to whiteAnd the warmth of home I'll carry on  WarmthEmpty beds, cold floors, and quiet homes.In my mind both waking and asleepI think of the things I wish to hold dearThe hand of the blind, scarred, and cursedand to share with them a momentary restSoft laughs, good food, and gentle touches SacrificeA blade too large to wield, a heart too heavy to love, streaming tears and screaming matchesTo let go and live free comes with great costHair too long to tame, a pack too heavy to bear, wandering boots and greener pasturesTo travel and find purpose comes with many burdens I switch to bows, snip most of my mane, and leave almost all I could behindBut there are some things I'll still choose to carryI couldn't possibly forget where I came from  OuroborousSnakeskins form into knotsA tight ball with little giveWrithing as it reaches to  swallow it's own tail What could be done to end a cycle when it begins anew? A new shirt, a new booka new home, a new nameThe same trek, and breakfast,and work, and thoughts All habits that linger like a haunting old whisper The urge to pull another body, writhing with their fleshTo look out into the distance and tug oneself awayTo stare down the edge of an abyss frozen in contemplationTo feel knots forming in your gut Everything is different, yet nothing has changed Untitled StoryYou lie beneath a bed of snow, cheeks flushed and feeling hot. Deafened by whipping winds, blinded by  your icy lashes, and skin blackened by the coming winter. You think for sure that this is how you die, lonely in the middle of a blizzard. And yet you hear a voice call out over the storm, speaking in a tongue you do not know but you understand every word of. You feel it is your mother, you know she misses you. She promises to embrace you, hold you close and keep you warm. She'll even sing a song just like she used to when you were a baby... In the white wasteland you can see her between blinks, skinny and tall as she reaches out with blue fingers. Her complexion is frozen solid, ice cracking and sloughing off her body before she touches you. When she holds you, it's like skin is almost burning, hands suddenly thick and fatty as you are cradled like a baby. You feel so small, so helpess, so young. And she does sing you a lullaby but it's the song goes on forever. You feel no peace, no solace, no rest. The light of dawn cuts through the blizzard like a knife, the warmth of the sun bringing feeling back into your flesh. As memories of the night come to you, you know a few things. You didn't die, you didn't fall asleep, and you didn't meet your mother. Despite it all your blood runs cold as you knew that you were spoken to, that you were held, and that you were not alone. 

OOC Minecraft Username: Kiloton_Nuke Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes Have you read the rules? (Link): Yeah!(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: From my friends playing in it.(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: apoplectic_atom (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): Hiii my name’s Kilo, I’m an artist and TTRPG enthusiast. I’ve done roleplays through a few games online, mainly DnD and PbtA systems but I’ve never done it on MC before. I also haven’t played MC since the nether update so I’m really trying to step out of my comfort zone for this ^^!! — In-Character Read the following prompt: The sound of clinking glasses and idle chatter welcome you in as you find yourself stepping into The Full Cask. An older man with a full mustache and warm smile beckons you over to the bar he's tending. His gazes washes over you, a glint of some knowing look shining in his eyes. As you sit, his voice rumbles out: "Hello there stranger! What can I get for you?"  After you order, he continues to make small talk. "You must be a newcomer. I'm Maarten, glad to meet you." He says with a certain kindness in his tone.  "Tell me, what brings you to the Spire?"   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?)Usage of AI to generate, modify or translate the writing on your application will result in denial of your whitelist. There will be no chance to re-apply afterwards. Your Response: “Something that goes down easy please,” They lean close over the bar, a habit learned from their soft tongue being easily drowned out by the revelry of drunkards. Their gaze easily wanders over the crowd distracted by the warmth and passing conversation. Even among shorter races they feel out of place, small and childish, surrounded by people they could only dream of emulating. Maarten’s introduction snaps him out of his thoughts, bringing a slight crinkle to their eye as they smile bashfully. Was it that obvious they were new? “It’s a pleasure. The name’s Kikivik…” They draw out a hum, thinking over their answer with a sip before responding, “I guess the best way to say it is I’m doing a little soul searching.”   “I was adopted into a Stonerunner Tribe as a baby, they found me nearly half-dead in the remains of a caravan caught in the middle of winter. I’m lucky to be alive, even luckier to be raised as one of them,” Kikivik’s hand grazes through his long hair, brushing over bone earring crafted from their first hunt. They can still remember the biting chill of the wind, bundled in so many wools and furs they looked more like a fluffy ball than a tiny human child. The cold made their fingers numb, barely able to tell the difference between the arrow and bow. A perfect shot  helped him catch a deer twice his size regardless and his mother’s shock was pure gold.    “My clan had always called me brave, strong, but I could never be a warrior,even if I wanted to. I was always going to be the little guy,” Defeat tastes like a mouthful of mudcake. He had been training to be a warrior for months and the dawn of the Frostfade Festival left him eager to prove his strength. Perhaps they should’ve known he wasn’t cut out for wrestling when the smallest opponent was his cousin, three inches taller, four years younger. Five counts pinned in the mudpit was more than enough for him to learn however. They abandoned training and returned to hunting shortly after.    “When I took the Fara to learn about my destiny, if there was something more for me out there…” With only a rough idea of their birthday, Kikivik had the freedom to choose when to celebrate their zodiac. The season of Vernus was always a happy time with the melting of snow, the return of work, and the beginning of a new year. A fresh start, another chance to push themselves, to strengthen their skills and find their place within the Tribe. For the little guy early blooming was an ideal, of course they’d pick to celebrate The Pale Steed.    “The diviners told me that what I seek is within myself—” He was close, but he was wrong. Their birth writhed in the muddy path between hoof beats and passing seasons. The Ouroborus was found trapped within a locked box, a key hidden beneath the Archway. Whatever satisfaction, strength, or peace they sought must only be brought about by great change and the end of familiar cycles. Now the season of Typhon speaks greatly to them, marking the date they chose to leave home and set off for the Spire. It is a new beginning, “—I’m choosing to search for that here.” — Character Name: Kikivik Arnatuk Character Race: Human Character Age: 20 Brief Physical Description: A young human Stonerunner with dark black hair, and deep blue eyes. He is slightly bigger than most humans, sporting the strong build of a hunter and a height of 5’10”. His face is soft and slightly feminine, pretty like the light and loose clothes he wears in favor to the warmer weather. Their skin has tanned into a deep auburn since shedding their wintercoat, but you’d never see them without a bright green headband embroidered by Stonerunner artisans.  Image of Skin and Figura Model: (Credit to MurpValley on Skindex for the base of the clothes!)