Application: Flyn

[CuteAndWhisk]

Do you have any prior experience with Requiem? If so, please detail when (and what characters, if desired) you previously played:

No, I never had the pleasure.

Briefly summarise your prior role-playing experience in a sentence or two:

I have been enjoying improv acting for quite some time. It is a hobby I have been expressing through various role-playing sessions, both online and tabletop.

Why do you wish to play on Requiem, and what do you expect from the shard?

I wish to play on Requiem to experience its unique settings and story-driven world progression. I expect engaging, satisfying role-playing sessions and mature players.

What will your character's name be?:

Flyn

Please briefly describe the physical attributes of your character, including age, looks, height, weight and any notable features:

He is a 30 years old male who appears to be 190 cm tall. He has an athletic, lean physique and broad but stooped shoulders. Features of his oval face could seem noble, even handsome if they were not hidden under tired, pale and wounded-by-wrinkles skin—marks of stressful life and hardship. Yet, there is a vivacious and wise expression in his eyes. Those eyes are deeply set in sockets and glitter with icy sparks like a pair of blue jewels, resembling, deeply hidden under a layer of stoicism and reservation, suppressed emotions. He possesses a pensive appearance to his face, emphasised by bushy and black eyebrows and a curved, aquiline nose. Long, straight and black like a raven's feathers, hair, descent limply on his high forehead. Although he speaks slowly, his deep voice seems pleasant to one's ear.

Briefly state your character's intentions or motivations for entering the First Province:

Everything ends. But not for a Flyn. For Flyn, even the end has its purpose - after all, the end is just another way of saying 'there are gains to be made'. Once you are a part of 'The Family' you better make sure you follow-up on that. Never let the end to get better of you, and make sure you get your way. It was the same for Flyn, for his blood was as pure as it gets, and he did not know any other way of living. Once family business got 'burned' in Redholme, he and his three cousins packed (quite rapidly actually) and moved to the First Province, to a place which is full of opportunities, a place where you can run your business, a place where communities and civilians desire to be looked after. After all, there are poor to be fed, homeless to be clothed, and there are other establishments that will most certainly need Flyn’s protection.

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):

There is a lesson to be learned for everyone in prison.
Darkness is not as bad as they paint it. There are colours once you close your eyes. The never-ending silence, on the other hand, is what brings your sanity to the brink of absolute destruction. You have no other choice but to befriend rats, for they are the only living thing you will hear for the rest of your life. This is what those who have heard of the nightmares of living in solitude think unless it is not their first time.

Flyn got caught selling illegal goods to a mage who was wanted in Eastern Baronies. Mage, who was well known for her corrupting acts for which prominent and ruthless Witch Hunters hunted her. Risky business.
- 'Shame. Good 'ooking piece of meat she was…'- thought to himself Flynwhile getting arrested and shook his head from side to side abruptly, hoping emerging thoughts will fall like autumn leaves drop when rustled by a wind. – 'Naaah… That bloody 'omination deserved the pyre, for she refused my earnings during the transaction' – he changed his stance rapidly. Now he was contemplating that the evillest act this Witch has ever committed was not paying upfront what she supposed to pay. Oddly, Flynnever cared about mages and what they do in their own time unless he could profit from it. Essentially, he was as interested in Mages' business as much as he cared about ancient Prelates of the Decusian Faith. None. His pragmatic, egocentric and narcissistic personality traits were pushing him into taking advantage of any situation for personal gain. Even if it required collaborating with the most corrupted of all people: mages and witches.

Flyn did not resist the arrest. Only a slight sigh left his mouth, which formed a silent and grim sounding sentence 'This's getting 'oring'. Surprisingly, instead of being worried, Flyn wished for this incident to be over. He wanted to go back to his laboratory and get on with his work. He adored working with his chemicals and toxins, some of which, he thought, did not even taste half bad and tended to enhance perception and vision, too, if correctly dosed. Flyn, bored to the bones, rolled his eyes and plunged himself into thoughts.
Few days after the incident, during a conversation with a government representative, heads were shaken. The family head, Vincent, who was a charmer, even more than his bushy moustache, received handsome pay. Dux of Church Templar thanked Vincent for giving information of a location on yet another dangerous Witch. Some of that money was counted out, some strings were pulled, and Flynwas out of prison once again. Again, money proved to shine through keyholes.

Sometime later, Vincent found Flyn working in an obscure laboratory. Vincent was wondering once again what miracle holds together the old devices and equipment. Yet, Flyn was eagerly twisting and turning knobs and cogs to produce another desired effect. An effect which was dripping down, drop by drop, into a taint-coloured glass.
- There yer go, son – said Vincent grinning while twisting and turning his moustache – you did well, and I'll forgive you that you wasted a possibility to get another income through that transaction. That mage was about to mug you off! Be keener, child. For now, some of earning will go into your research, as agreed.
Flyn was a passionate yet amateur scientist who never had a chance to gain a proper qualification. He had to self-teach himself potion creation while trying to survive on the streets of Redholme. He quickly learnt how to transmute matter into desired products, though most of the goods he produced were basic animal killing toxins, lubricants, libido enhancers, and drugs. Still, it provided enough profit to fuel his naturally-born curiosity, which he carried on developing, turning it into schemes and devices which would shock even the best spies and criminals.

Briefly write an in-character response to the scenario:

Flyn was looking around, not at all amazed at machinery and technologies as anyone who calls himself a scientist or a curious folk should have. His mind was travelling through the vast emptiness of colourful images, which were overwhelmingly present yet equally numbing. He has been testing a new drug he recently developed and planned to merchandise to New Province's fine citizens. After all, where there is fear, there is a market for new and better, even if illusionary and additive, realities. Right now, therefore, the reality seemed dull.
- Here it is, yet another gate made of prime Church flesh: bloody officiants and their laws. - Flyn mumbled silently under his nose while yawning and walking towards the officiant, who looked even more bored than Flyn.
- Essentials, yer say? I will give you some essentials… - The boredom was slowly turning into annoyance. Yet Flyn voice remained as silent as a passing cloud.
- A'ight, we gotta do 'omething 'bout it, lads. - said Flyn towards his family members and then fixed his blue eyes onto Family's head. - There are many ways we can get through, Boss. But let's not mess 'bout and choose the most 'fficient way. I do not feel 'omfortable being around crowds. What if one of them is sick? – drug-induced paranoia was kicking in. Perhaps, a one for the journey was not the most incredible idea in a life and death situation, or rather, future-no-future, and money-no-money, situation.
- Father's Church connections should do, or a bribe, if so you wish, Boss. – Suddenly, Flyn grinned and pointed with his thumb at the guard.
- Ha! Yet this officiant looks like he is in great need of perception enhancers which should brighten his mood and monotonous day. Anyway, 'ight, yer call, I care not 'bout the solution as long as it is a working one.
Family's Head, whose father Vincent passed under suspicious yet well-known circumstances, moved forward. Flyn observed his doings as he was usually always impressed by the Family's forwardness and leadership skills. Right now, however, Flyn saw not a man moving but an oversized bird. As a result, Flyn slapped himself and reached for a little brown bottle, which he found in one of his many pockets and drunk it to terminate the drug's effect. While his mind was sobering up, he overheard Salazar mentioning them being craftsmen and was about to move forward to show his stained hands as proof. He nearly saw himself moving and winning the day, just to realise that he did not even twitch an inch—bloody drugs. Then he heard the beautiful music of rattling coins appearing in his mind and a familiar voice telling him 'let's go'.

[Coty]

Congratulations, adventurer! Your application is...

Approved!

Please ensure that your character name is spelled correctly upon exiting the Songmaker's chambers. A GM will approve your character at their earliest convenience.

Welcome to Requiem!

The officiant watches you pass with the rest. His expression one of confusion as he sets his prying gaze upon you. It follows you as you walk, lingering on your back for a long moment as you continue forward. "Why is he so sweaty..." The officiant mumbles, worry beginning to sprout in his mind at the idea of him having let a plague-ridden through. Well, better in there than out here with the healthy folk, he thinks. It is a quarantine zone after all.