OOC Minecraft Username: Gh0blyn Are you at least 18 years old?: yes Have you read the rules? (Link): yes (Optional) Were you referred by someone? If so, who: Nat_Night — 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 panorama filtered through the elf's eyes from her brain in the wait, now only washed away by the innocent prob of another. "Ah?" Her voice rolled hoarse, like a scythe trying to mow through silt. Her head swivelled upon an axis, craning it a nudge deeper into the direction to account for the drooping eyelid on her left. Now, her attention fixed to the older woman, an eye scattering over her, all before something jovial lifted her lips. "Me?" It was with her own rhetorical prod that allowed for the stalwart figure to train her body's attention towards the woman, her torso twisted enough to permit a rest of her forearm through the length of the wagon's side. And it was with a grating caw of her dulled greataxe that sat betwixt her legs, dancing with the wooden grooves to accompany her movement that soothed an introduction for her otherwise guttural prattle: "Eh- sure axe excited ye but, yur questiuns're wasted missus.".  Her head flailed back some to accompany the thick smog of laughter trailing out, beginning again in Elvish as the amusement fled, "Dull, see." calloused hands coil around the hilt of the weapon. Her grip tightened as it grew upwards in her lift for a better view for the two, and it was shark skin that cradled the hilt of the axe, remarkably pristine in contrast to the gruff of the wielder. Flitting scrutiny along the hilt led to the broad-shouldered steel blade, inherently imposing aside from its unkeen hooks. "Ack-" Her features soiled slightly with her own inspection before lowering it into a faint ram at the base of the wagon, her thumb humoured at a caress of the pommel, continuing in common after an amused snort. "Ha— lyin' I um, 'wasted questiuns'" She spoke, mocking her earlier sentiment, "Treatin' 'er to exotic do up." The elf's eyes dwindled to the axe in which took on a slow twirl before flitting off it to meet with the woman. "Need 'er sharp fur next life see- warthog is nought with stubbed tusks, right?" The elvish woman's lips cracked in a part, allowing for her hearty laughter. She continued through the brunt of her amusement, words rattled with the roaring manifestation of an amiable heart.  "Right!" She seemed to praise an unspoken guess "Buried with me it will. No future blood from me to make use of it. She's but an 'or-na-ment' –" that word came with an almost rehearsed inflection, "ought for her to bleed memories, no? Eh." her shoulders raised in a shrug; the grip of the weapon now abandoned as her hand moved to scratch at the stitching of her clothes. Whilst the other - still lazed against the side of the wagon - made use of the wood, which found to aid her as she cracked her fingers, one by one.  "No long done the mountain's crusade either—" She brought her hand from its idle fidget at her clothes to the woman's line of sight, fingers pantomiming an inclined walk, "'n when yer up, ye reach a point in thinking—" she dropped her charades, swinging her hand as if gesturing to an open field, "— eyes 're goggling the land – 'n ye think— Eh, what’s expression lady? Easy shit." she spoke in what she thought was the pinnacle of wisdom, a harbinger of the profound truly. But amidst her recollective story, the elf found mild irritation in her own shallow lullabies, her head heaved in a slow roll at her shoulders before words sorted through her lips, "Eh, for some. Lots of battered bodies busy the trails up in Red Mountains. Ack, one night, boy from clan went up." the elf's lips closed, squirming amongst her otherwise brooding expression before her lips fell from their seal, continuing, "Not up, barely foot into mountain. 'Least, that is where Jaraid dragged 'im to, fair tucked into its meal it was, when few of us set out to search for boy. Eh, maybe he watches over us as mole, fits 'is blind ego. But fer beast--" her frame heaves in mirth, fingers curling around the draping animal pelt that shadows one half of her body, tugging it back and forth as a means to bring it to the focal point, continuing "should 'ave bested me, no?" it was here that the gentle mirth that writhed her body blew into full laughter, shaking her head only with the dwindle in spirit. "Ah— not all me, no— I share fate with mole-boy if no Greatlings with me. But, tall-folk didn't save pretty face of mine, no." The hand grasping her pelt slinked up to her drooping left eye, an impish finger tugging the eyelid open, "Fangs that droop frum jowls, snagged my eye – maybe more on 'nother night." she shrugged whilst her hand fled her eye, her eyelid lulling back down to shadow her left eye. "Dead meat, good over fire." The stalwart frame of hers fell into a deepened relax of the wagon's chair "Enough of me, talk about you.". Character Name: Yrn'ha Crafir Character Race: Arsa Sidhe  Character Age: 27 Brief Physical Description: Yrn'ha is a burly framed elf, standing at 6'11. She is plastered in a mauve skin tone, contrasted with pale hair which is longer at the back and falls short at the front. Her eyes are a yellow colour, with her left being obscured by a drooping eyelid. Yrn'ha has a black swirling tattoo that climbs up her right arm and teeters somewhat onto her chest. Her upper torso is wrapped in bandaged cloth, with her left side covered in an animal pelt that drapes loosely. An aureate belt - a string with spaced flat gold discs - separate her torso from her lower half, which don loose dull green bottoms, cuffed mid-calf.