akirr
Villager
- Pronouns
- He/Him
| akirce's Whitelist App: ________________________________________ {Introduction Section} Minecraft Username: akirce Age: 20 Country & Timezone: JST Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes Define Metagaming & Powergaming?: Metagaming is using information not privy to or gained by your character in roleplay then use it for your benefits. Powergaming is the act of not giving other roleplayers a chance to react and/or deciding the results of an action without other parties consent. Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No Tell us about yourself!: 20 year old silly little guy who hasn't roleplayed for a long while. Call me Aki, I write and worldbuild for fun. Off on my little adventure, currently studying language and culture. Considering my timezone, I might not meet all of you at all, but please do take care of me nonetheless. Referral: N/A ________________________________________ {Character Section} Character Name: Arios Reiss Age: 23 Race: Anhalder Appearance: Adorned in rugged, makeshift leather garbs, Arios stood tall and gracefully slender. Though his attire bore the marks of a well-traveled journey, he wore it with a sense of pride, as if each frayed edge held a tale of its own. His azure eyes mirrored the vast, open sky he often gazed upon, reflecting a deep sense of contemplation. Sepia-brown strands of hair cascaded down his neck, their haphazard cut speaking of an impromptu decision made in the spirit of adventure. (Optional) Picture of the Skin: on the lookout excuse me Written Test (Min: 400 words): Off the beaten path on some divine-forsaken road, Arios found himself stepping to the haunting tunes of his lute. Not a single coin to his name, nor any trace of fame, he wandered the vast continent with a naive glint in his eyes. Despite his deep roots in the land, Arios never had the luxury of settling down. Instead, he became intimately familiar with the acrid stench of inns and the bitter tang of shoddy liquor. Every step he took on the gravel road added to the ever-growing list of unique stenches and resonances imprinted in his memory. One fateful day, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, a distinct metallic tang pierced Arios's smell receptors. It alarmed him, and his fingers came to a tense halt on the strings of his lute. Veering off the path, he spotted a trail leading deeper into the woods. Curiosity gripped him like a vice, and he held the thin neck of his lute like a makeshift club, ready to defend himself from whatever awaited him. With trepidation, he ventured forth into the dense thicket, his heart pounding with each step. And there, before him, lay a scene of destruction - a wreckage so forlorn that it seemed to belong to a long-forgotten merchant. The mud and grime clung to every detail, telling the tale of an unfortunate end. The cart had been picked clean like a carcass by vultures, leaving nothing of value behind. Arios couldn't help but imagine what this cart might have carried, its intended destination now just a fleeting wish. The silence surrounding the wreckage was deafening, and the faint scent of decay already filled the air. Whoever had done this must be long gone by now, leaving only echoes of their cruel act. Disturbing as the scene was, Arios was moved to pay homage to the departed soul. With a grieving smile, he strummed his lute, the sound off-pitched and amateurish, yet sincere. It was his way of offering a send-off to the fallen, a requiem for the lost. Arios, always one with a flair for arts, laid his musical tool gently beside the corpse. "Rest. At the least, you will not be alone!" he declared softly, bidding farewell to the unknown soul. As he continued on his way, his heart weighed heavy with sorrow, but his spirit remained unyielding. The road stretched before him, a seemingly endless path, and he couldn't resist the urge to strum a note. To his dismay, the sound was met with silence. Realizing the inevitable fate of his beloved lute, he exhaled a soft chuckle, his piercing blue eyes gazing onward toward the distant horizon. ". . . That was my good one, too," he mused, accepting the transient nature of his cherished companion. And so, Arios pressed on, his footsteps carrying him further into the unknown, a wandering minstrel without a lute but a spirit that would forever sing. With every step, he carried with him the memories of the fallen, offering them a place in his heart as he continued to journey through the world, seeking solace in the melodies of the road. |
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