Out-Of-Character
Minecraft Username: Gwylgi
Are you at least 18 years old?: Yes.
Have you read the rules? (Link): Yes.
Were you referred by someone? If so, who?: DinoSipsCoffee.
—
In-Character
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 sitting 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?”
-
Harwyn's eyes focused on the crone opposite of him for a few moments, as if to study her- there was a certain wariness to his gaze. It was after no more than a few seconds however that his expression softened, a smile coming across his face.
“"Nervous" isn’t the right word.. I like to recognize it more so as enthusiasm."
He spoke with a certain confidence in his voice, lacking any hesitation in contesting her description.
"As for why I've come here though, that's a little bit harder to place. Pardon me a moment while I think about it, please."
He thought for a moment, and though his smile didn't betray him, there was a slight iciness that returned to his eyes. He dwelled on what was bringing him here.
There was the most obvious answer- it was in his nature to be there, in an unclaimed land. Such was his right as Fireborne, to be able to uproot his life and settle new, untamed lands, or in this case, lands once blooming with Aedall civilization now reclaimed by the dominions of King Wolf and Lord Oak. Such would be his rite to wage war on them and seize their fertile valleys in his own name, to bring renown to his name by breaking the land the way one would a horse.
In tandem however with his traditional charge, was one equally close to his wyrd. In a land overgrown as the Southern Reach, it was undoubted that as new settlements arose atop the foundations of their elders, so too would new tribulations arise. Cities are destined to be founded, to be built, to be expanded, and to burn, to return to dust and ash and fertile the soil as they have already and always done. Where there is Man, there are displaced beasts and spirits. Where there are nations, there is war. Where there are merchants, there are highwaymen, and where there is power, there are those abused by it. While all lands have this, few have the opportunity for growth as the Southern Reach does, where there is the chance to partake in its vices and virtues from the very beginning, and it is in that opportunity that Harwyn will find the most rewarding chance for growth. It is here he has decided that his crucible shall be, among the ghosts and their forests of Ash and Yew.
Beyond all that however, beyond the thicket of his duty to his ancestors and Y Ddraig Tân, there was something more personal- curiosity. How many times have entire civilizations simply vanished from existence? Cities, fiefs, entire nations gone without a trace of their tracks, as if they had never been there at all. How many more times would something like that happen in the world, let alone in his lifetime? It was like a hunger in his belly, gnawing at his mind with what could possibly have caused it, with what machinations could even facilitate it, with what sorcery and dark rituals could simply will entire empires out of existence. It was something he had to find out- he needed not be the first to discover or learn it, but he had to understand.
All these thoughts channeled through him as feelings and emotions, ideas extrapolated within fractions of a fraction of second by merely brushing against the thought within that place in his mind. It was not more than a minute that he let himself linger in his anticipations and energies before focusing once more on the crone.
"Dàn." He finally answered her. "Ffawd Nain has weaved me here- nothing more nor less."
It was the only way he could explain himself, to articulate himself in a simple way. With that, he let their conversation end.
—
Character Name: Harwyn
Character Race: Half-Elf/Half-Human
Character Age: 24
Brief Physical Description: Harwyn stands at a comfortable 6’1”, exhibiting a mesomorphic frame with broadened shoulders with well defined muscles and an overall rugged mien. He has long, black hair, which he often keeps tied in a top knot, and eyes angel red. His face is overall rough hewn, and he lacks any facial scars, much to his dismay. His teeth are white and straight, and he also sports a mustache, rather than being clean shaven or having a full beard.
