I felt nostalgic about roleplaying in Ultima Online. The festive season was always the time when I generally returned to this game. A few Google searches later, there I am.
CHARACTER QUESTIONS
Fen'drael doesn't bear the physical marks of a seasoned adventurer. He is of average height with a slim build, and his movements are calculated and deliberate, reflective of a person who prefers to navigate the dangers of life through words rather than weapons. Fen'drael's sharp, observant eyes are a deep shade of brown. His brown hair, neatly combed, adds a touch of unassuming charm to his appearance. Fen'drael's attire is practical and unassuming, designed for comfort rather than combat, reflecting his predisposition to avoid unnecessary risk. Unbeknownst to those around him, Fen'drael subtly compensates for a hidden quirk in his vision. His eyes, while keen at close range, carry a hint of discernible challenge when it comes to things farther afield.
He originates from the Eastern Baronies, specifically the geographically isolated city of Redholme, and has lived a life as a journalist, chronicling the complex tapestry of his homeland. Redholme, encapsulated by impressive mountain ranges, fostered a unique environment that shaped Fen'drael's worldview. Despite the rugged beauty of his hometown, Fen'drael found himself entangled in the intricate web of political intricacies, exposing truths that not everyone wished to unveil.
His decision to enter the First Province is driven by the need to flee the reach of an obscured influential individual who sought to silence him for the truths he brought to light. Seeking refuge within the First Province, Fen'drael views the mysteries within the quarantine zone as offering both sanctuary and the potential for a fresh start, allowing him to begin anew. Fen'drael hopes he has learned his lesson, but only time will tell.
Scenario
As Fen'drael stands among the crowd outside the Rumbling Pass train yards, he observes the chaos with a sense of detachment. The looming outpost and the Legionnaires guarding the entrance do little to rattle his composure. The passenger train, a marvel of technology, is met with a skeptical gaze, for Fen'drael understands that the real dangers lie beyond the quarantine.
Listening to the officiant's rehearsed speech, Fen'drael can't help but be reminded of the power of words in shaping reality. As he watches the bribes and forged documents change hands, he contemplates the fine line between truth and manipulation. The notion of facing the undead is overshadowed by the haunting memories of the danger he left behind.
*Approaching the officiant, Fen'drael maintains his calm demeanor. As he presents his papers, an exchange ensues.*
Officiant: "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."
Fen'drael: "I come seeking passage not for riches or power but for knowledge. The stories untold within the fallen capital beckon to me, and I am driven by the pursuit of truth."
Officiant: "Knowledge, eh? Not many seek that in these parts. Let me see those papers of yours."
*Fen'drael hands over his papers, his gaze unwavering as the officiant scrutinizes them. Waiting for his response.*
