Character Application; Lyanora Voss

[Kachina]

Do you have any prior experience with Requiem? If so, please detail when (and what characters, if desired) you previously played:
Yes! I'm not entirely certain but I'd like to say it was Act 3. I prefer not to publicly list characters but anyone who wants to know can PM me and I'll share.
 

Briefly summarize your prior role-playing experience in a sentence or two:
Too many UO servers to count, WoW, Guild Wars, Star Wars, several text-based forums. It's been a good 22 years, I'm a nerd.

Why do you wish to play on Requiem, and what do you expect from the shard?
I haven't played UO since the last time I was on Requiem. The staff has always been incredibly talented and I can see that the truly toxic players are no longer present. Not only is survival horror awesome, but Requiem executes it very well, and I'm excited to create stories with all players.
 

What will your character’s name be?:
Lyanora Voss

 

Please briefly describe the physical attributes of your character, including age, looks, height, weight and any notable features:
Lyanora is built like a runner, slender but not without taut musculature. She manages to maintain a very feminine shape in spite of this, barely breaching an impressive 5'8" and hovering around 130 pounds. Being only 22 has helped her conquer humanity's damned existence thus far, but it is not unusual to see her appearing exhausted and defeated. Her strawberry blonde hair reaches the small of her back, fair skin fitting right in with the desecrated Western lands from which she hails. Her left eye is a diluted turquoise, while the right is such a dark brown that her pupil is almost invisible. Her features are soft, her face rounded, but her short life has visibly taken a toll.
 

Briefly state your character’s intentions or motivations for entering the First Province:
Lyanora is desperate to find a functional slice of society that enforces law, order and some modicum of faith. She hopes to see her skills, and her husband's, put to good use and be utilized by a unified front.
 

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):
When the Torment began to creep across Teramer, it was not long before Lyanora awoke to her nearby settlement in flames. Her parents, five brothers and two sisters(they were clearly very busy) were never found, dead or alive, as a neighbor tore her out of bed when the afflicted started to pour over them like flies on a rotting sow.

She was already a proficient hunter by then. It was her role in the family when trade slowed down and livestock became scarce. While the young woman loved breathable nature and animals more than her shrinking group of survivors, she could swiftly skin a hind without batting an eye. She knew not an ounce would be wasted.

It didn't hurt that she was fast, fearless, a sneak and mastered a level of precision that perfected both her slaughter and her talent as a seamstress.

As the Torment spread, so did Lyanora's borders as a huntress for her (now) extremely small group.

She knew better, but people were hungry and deteriorating faster than she could bring them even a bird; by then, she only saw crows anyway. No way would she interfere with them.

Though she had never visited Nimiue for the best of reasons, she did skirt around it while approaching the swamps, hoping for some game. Her general neck of the woods was all but barren.

Much to her dismay, she wasn't the only one willing to do anything for meat that day. A local hunting party from the town of scum were close enough to track Lyanora, but while they did significant damage to the lone girl, she fought tooth and nail, killed two of the inbred yokels before they could overpower her and have their way.

Killing just two was hardly enough. As she was close to surrendering, the loud, rapid thrum of a bow sounded and not a man was left alive. It took less than a minute for Lyanora to scramble onto her feet and thank both Decus, this stranger, and decide that her savior was trapped with her.

Briefly write an in-character response to the following scenario:

 

You have finally arrived at your destination; the Rumbling Pass train-yards. Before you stands a massive outpost, looking to have been erected within the past few years, 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 range that effectively contains the First Province within, the outpost serves as the last obstacle you must overcome before entering 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. Behind him, a passenger train, a marvel of technological advancement, sits idling on its’ tracks, dozens of persons filling it’s numerous passenger cars. A true rarity within the Republic, you can hardly believe your eyes (and ears) as the locomotive releases a massive plume of steam from its’  smokestack. You overhear many a bewildered citizen around you gossip as to how the only truly safe way into the Province is now by rail, for the Rumbling Pass’ mountains are nigh impassible and miles long, with the only safe navigable tunnels being those traveled in the safety of locomotives and rail-cars. You shudder for a moment, pondering how many forsaken souls attempted to flee the cloistered Province through the Pass’ winding, dark tunnels, hordes of Afflicted upon their heels, only to be cut down in the pitch-black darkness.

It strikes you as peculiar that so much effort has been made in securing a means of logistical supply and personnel transportation into the fallen First Province. You’ve heard rumors before of Quarantine Zones; entire Municipalities and even Territories being cut-off from access due to the blight of the Torment and the over-abundance of the walking dead – but in most instances, no one is ever trying to get into to those forsaken places. Yet here, mere miles from the ruins of Tor, masses congregate in order to make their way into the First Province Quarantine Zone. If you hadn’t known any better, the entire scene – the Outpost, the mass of military personnel, the throngs of citizens and the hissing locomotive – resembles more of an evacuation rather than a one-way ticket into anarchy and lawlessness. As you make your way closer to the train-yard outpost, you can’t help but recall all of the wild and crazy stories concerning all manners of rumors about the First Province since it’s fall two years ago. Some say that the treasures awaiting the bold are beyond measure – others swear that Salvation and Ascension is guaranteed for those who would follow their Faith and help reclaim the First Coast.

Where the truth lies, you’ve no idea – you only know that you’re here, at the precipice of it all, and your destination is within reach.

You watch, somewhat defeated, as but a scant few of the hundreds that approach the outpost officiant, who 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 and train-yards proper. You see some  swarthy fellows 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, flashing official looking papers from a Faction or influential Prelacy house, who promptly waves them through. While watching and eavesdropping, you manage to overhear the well-rehearsed speech the officiant provides to those whom don’t provide paperwork or grease his palm, the words monotone and nasally.

“By decree of the Venerated Church, the First Province is 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 Quarantine Visa by the perimeter authority.”

The officiant snorts in disdain, then adds the last line to the rehearsed monologue:

“State your business and make it quick, citizen; we’ve enough bodies in there to keep us busy for years without adding yours to the pile, and those VIC are stirring up problems something fierce as of late.”

You ponder the situation for a moment, evaluating your options. It is 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 or Prelacy Families 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 – although his price may be hefty. However, despite it all, you’re sure that some of those let in appeared to have made a convincing case with the officiant without resorting to subterfuge or immorality. Gathering your wits, you step forward towards the officiant, and make your decision as to how to gain access to the First Province.


Lyanora believed this moment would never come. To leave the West and arrive in the East was rare enough, especially following an attack that caused her to wear rather concealing leathers to stave wandering eyes away from the scars that covered her body. On the plus side, it showcased her stitchwork.

Standing behind her husband, Mikhail, she waited until he spoke to step forward. She did not pass him, but simply made herself more visible. While doing so, she instinctively grasped Mikhail's forearm uncomfortably tight, making direct eye contact with the Officiant should he care to glance up.

"We have nowhere else to go, but we would not come with empty hands..."

Lyanora was affirming her husband's words, but hers were literal as well. She tossed her somewhat knotted hair aside and pulled three pelts from the back of her neck, two with russet fur and one with white-speckled black.

"Wolf," her final word as she held the bundle out toward the Officiant, but not too close.

[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's gaze finally moves from the papers upon his desk to set upon the two of you. What a lovely couple, he thinks at the sight. His eyes shift slowly between you and your husband as you speak in turn, his expression unchanging. He listens to your husband's pleas and promises. There is truth in his words, aye-but why would the officiant care? It is not until you place the hides out that he begins to seem interested. He has little notion of their value but he was sure he could get something for them and something, after all, was better than nothing. A few moments later you have a freshly stamped visa presented to you.