Application - Itzel

[Iquitos]

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

no


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

I RPed at community events with the Napa Valley shard members from OSI UO, I’ve joined a few DnD sessions, and I RPed with the Knights guild (Sir) on UOForever. In general, I’d say I am a noobie to RP – as none of the experience listed was hardcore.


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

I’d love to experience a completely enforced RP community with players who are all discovering unique mechanics and aspects of the game and lore. I seek immersion, both in the game world (completely new and exciting to me), and in my character’s place in it.

I expect a hardcore but respectable environment with a group of players who collaborate in immersion and encourage discovery.

What will your character’s name be?:

Itzel Meztlihuitl

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

You see a short and thin man. Had it not been daylight, he might have been easily overlooked. He is young, about 25 years of age. The man is wearing filthy clothes, and has long dark brown hair and brown eyes. His skin is brown and and ashy dry. You are surprised that he appears to be Sulastain, but without piercings on his face.

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

I grew up following the fall of Sulastas. My family was never quite stable, moving from home to home, always on the brink of poverty, and living with various “family” who were really just some of the last surviving Sulastains. My parents taught me about Decus, and the Templar. They wanted a life for me in the New World, and raised me as a Decusian as best as they could. But they practiced a different spirtuality in secret, with some of the other Sulastains.

As I came of age, they began to teach me about what life was really like before the Reclamation. Both the good and the bad. The riches, and the slavery. They told me about huge libraries, and how some of them contained sacred texts and relics which were stolen by the Templar, or possibly looters. Part of the reason for constantly moving while I was a child was their pursuit for some of these lost relics. Another reason was genocide.

One night, I came home from gathering supplies to find my family slaughtered, and my home looted. Everything that my family had worked for, all that I had just begun to understand, was now gone.

Facing the Apocalypse on my own, I never thought I would make it this far. I’ve turned to looting as a means of survival. The only thing that moves me forward is the thought that I can somehow get closer to my family, my roots, by discovering what the Templar had robbed of Sulastan. I come to the First Province to scavenge, in continued hopes that there is some information about the Old World waiting for me to discover within Tor.

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):

I’m a Sulastain whose family raised me to be Decusian so that I’d be safe from harm. However, my family was murdered for being Sulastain, leaving me alone and homeless. Living my entire life during the Torment and experiencing genocide has affected my faith, but I still hold onto the idea that there is something worth living for.
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.

The man approaches and begins to calmly state his case…

“I come to help reclaim the history held within the Province. I know first-hand how much can be lost when an entire capital is left to crumble under the Torment. My elders were scholars, custodians of knowledge, in Itzamaatl. Because of the Torment, I know little more about them, or what knowledge they had. This Province once served humanity a purpose, and that shouldn’t be forgotten. Let me in, and I will help preserve the history held within Tor.”

[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 sighs before looking up to meet your gaze with tired eyes. Drained expression setting on you for a long moment before reaching for a piece of parchment. With sloth-like movements he begins to fill out the paper, stamping it gently before passing it to you. "Some things are best forgotten but I will not stop you." His voice is a long drawl as he speaks, he motions you to continue on.