Do you have any prior experience with Requiem? If so, please detail when (and what characters, if desired) you previously played: Yes I have played from Act 2 onward
Briefly summarize your prior role-playing experience in a sentence or two: Ive played UO for over 12 years and RP games for over 20.
Why do you wish to play on Requiem, and what do you expect from the shard? I expect the fun, immersive game I keep coming back to.
What will your character’s name be?: Galryth Winterborn
Please briefly describe the physical attributes of your character, including age, looks, height, weight and any notable features: Galryth stands at just over 6 feet tall, with piercing blue eyes and long silver curly hair. His face is hard and angular, making him look angry or irritated even when relaxed. He has a short beard of matching silver, the colors making him look much older than he actually is. Hands are large and calloused, from obvious manual labor, and the stench of coal and embers accompanying his large arms would make an observant person realize that he is a smith by trade.
Briefly state your character’s intentions or motivations for entering the First Province: To look for his father, whom he has never met, and does not know after the death of his mother. He is also looking to start his own practice after apprenticing under a smith since the age of 9. The province offers a fresh slate, and perhaps a use for his talents. Besides, the only person left of his family is supposed to be here, if he can ever find out who that is...his mother wouldn't tell him and scantly ever spoke of him.
Briefly provide a pertinent detail or notable quality of your character’s history (this does not have to be exhaustive nor revealing of any information you wish to keep secret): Born the son of a tavern keeper in the midlands, Galryth grew up being raised by his single mother. She was always busy with the running of the tavern, and never had a suitor for long enough to step into the role of fatherhood. Stephen was his favorite of her suitors over the years. He was a smith, and something about watching him turn raw materials into usable objects, captivated him. Watching your hard work take shape into functionality...a tool that properly maintained would last longer than the purchaser of it...it was thrilling. Even after his mother and Stephen ended their, brief as usual, relationship; Galryth kept in contact with Stephen, often going to his smithy to watch him work with metals and carry things around for the man. Eventually, Stephen let him do more than carry things, slowly teaching the young man his art. When his mother fell ill, he gave up his apprenticeship and looked after her, and the inn to the best of his ability, which wasn't saying much. He didn't have a good handle on running a business. The staff knew that and took advantage of his naivety in the absence of his much shrewder mother. It started small...it always does...not paying for their food..."forgetting" to charge patrons for services for drink refills in hopes of better tips...and quickly progressed in Galryth's absence until the place was losing substantial coin. He didn't care...all he wanted was to get his mother well again.
But it was not to be...and before the fever took her, they had one last conversation...
"I know that you don't want to continue my business once this is done..." She snorted, mustering the strength for a wry grin before coughing up a slew of phlegm. "You need to follow your own path...you are more him than me...sometimes I wonder if you got any part of me in your blood...you look just like him...and are every bit as hard headed."
Galryth weakly tried to smile, to hide the melancholy in his heart as her time wound down before his eyes...
"You never really talk about him Mother...why? What was so important to leave you behind? Especially with child?"
She was silent for a moment, contemplating the question. "As I said...you're just like him...he had to follow his own path as well...when we were together, he was just starting a journey that would take him to the end of the world...back when this whole mess we are in was thought to perhaps be fixable..."
Stopping for a moment, she looked up at the ceiling with the biggest smile her frail frame could muster. "You have his eyes...and his hair. Silver and black streaked even at a young age then. Some women wouldn't fancy that, but I thought he looked distinguished...even regal. Oh he was a loving man...full of vigor and-"
"I...don't really need to know that part mother..." Galryth interjected, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "What was so important at the End of the World to leave his pregnant partner behind?"
"Well...he had no knowledge of you my boy," She looked away from the ceiling and into her son's blue eyes. "I didn't want to distract him from his course or have him stay out of some notion of honor...which he damn well probably would've...hardheaded fool."
She laughed.
"No...his place was there...as mine was here...we cannot change what the fates have in store for us I'm afraid..."
Galryth nodded slowly, helping his mother turn to the side to release another volley of "lung butter".
"I see...and did he ever accomplish whatever it was they were sent there to do?" He continued the conversation, only marginally interested in the answers, far more concern being placed on her.
"Well that depends on how you look at it..." She coughed once more, trying to hide the bit of blood that came up with that one. "Everything is always a matter of perspective boy...always remember that. Nothing went as it should of there...but I dare say it would've been worse without him...many lives were saved...and many lost...from his actions...but he got out of there before the end...and many with him."
"How do you know? How on Eden could you've kept track of his doings from that far away?" Galryth retorted, almost scoffingly.
"Oh when you own a tavern...you hear lots of things boy..." She looked down, her face slumping. "Lots of things..."
She shook her head, as if shaking a thought away and gathered what little she had left of her strength to grab his shirt collar and pull him in closely.
"After the End of the World he went to Tor...we both know what happened there and my ears heard nothing more of him after that...but if he did get away...and he's too fuckin' stubborn to die...the old goat...he'll be at the First Province...go there...whether he is alive or not your place is there..."
She lost the strength to hold his collar any longer more so than dropped it, closing her eyes and slumping further into her bed.
"I have to stay and hel-"
"Help what? You are not a tavern keeper..." Her eyes remained closed as she spoke. "We both know that...and I'm not going to be leaving this bed...we both know that as well."
Tears streamed down his face and he snorted the mucus running down his nose and into his silver mustache back into its nostril of orgin.
"Ho..how would I even know him?"
She managed one last laugh before the last of her life force faded from her...
"You'll know him...everyone does...just look for an older version of you doing something incredibly stupid for "the greater good" or any other such nonsense...you look just like him...I hope I'm right and you are more him than I..."
Briefly write an in-character response to the following scenario:
You have finally arrived at your destination; the Rumbling Pass checkpoint. Before you stands a massive outpost, looking to have been erected only recently, of which is patrolled by numerous Legionnaires and Church Templar. The outpost guards the only viable entrance to the recently quarantined First Province; the home of Tor, the fallen capital of the Republic. Sitting at the foot of the massive mountain line that effectively contains the First Province within, the outpost serves as the last obstacle you must overcome before gaining entry into the quarantined territory. You and others like you assemble outside of the palisades of the outpost, awaiting the opportunity to speak your case to the presiding Legion officiant who is processing admittance to the Province.
You watch as but a scant few of the dozens that approach the officiant, whom stands at the outer gates of the outpost flanked by a few heavily armored Legionnaires, are actually allowed to pass through the man-door and into the outpost. You see some slip pieces of gold to the officiant, while others plead their cases and rationale as to why they should be allowed to enter the recently fallen territory. Some appear to provide some sort of paperwork to the officiant, whom promptly waves them through. While eavesdropping, you manage to overhear the well-rehearsed speech the officiant provides to those whom don’t provide paperwork or grease his palm.
“By decree of the Venerated Church, the First Province is considered to be a mortal health hazard, and as such, is quarantined under Article Eighteen of the Republic Treatise of Health Act of 1320. Citizens who do not possess a Quarantine Visa issued by one of the recognized Factions of the Republic are considered non-essential to the reclamation of the First Province. Under Article Eighteen, non-essentials seeking entry into an official quarantine zone must petition for entry into a said zone, and state just cause for the issuing of a visa by the perimeter authority. State your business and make it good, citizen; we’ve enough bodies in there to keep us busy for months without adding yours to the pile.”
You ponder the situation for a moment, evaluating your options. It’s well known that with the right connections and the right amount of coin, one can get their hands on a Quarantine Visa from any one of the major Factions of the Republic, or even a passable counterfeit from more nefarious sources. At the same time, it would appear that the officiant doesn’t appear to be above some simple bribery. However, you’re sure that some of those let in appeared to have made a convincing case with the officiant. Gathering your wits, you make your decision as to how to gain access to the First Province.
"My name is Galryth Winterborn...I've come here in search of a new life...I have some gold from the sale of my mothers business, and my smith hammer. Surely there is much need for steel smiths in this place?"