Do you have any experience with UO RP servers?:
Yes, lots. All of them even.
Are you 18 years or older?:
Yes
Have you read our rules?:
Yes
Character name:
Dervla MacKinney
Character age:
20
Physical description of your character:
Dervla is a short pale girl, with a fiery red head of hair that sits atop a palpably average mantle. Her face is that of a peasant girl, and it’s one that you’ve seen countless times before. The girl who blends into the background at the tavern, and sits squarely in the middle of a crowd. It is, however, notable that her head seems to always be in the clouds, her eyes often drifting about and focusing on things unseen. She is a daydreamer and, to those who know her, a bit of a loon.
Notable personality traits or skills:
Dervla has her head in the clouds. When speaking to her, she can come off as absent and aloof at best, and entirely estranged at worst. She see’s things in the world that others do not. Sometimes it is a pattern in the treeline, or a specific arrangement of flowers. These are things that speak to her in their own way. If others would ask, she would tell them that it is the way of nature to speak through symbols and it is the way of man to ignore these things. In another place and time, she might be called a soothsayer or a fortune teller.
Where is your character coming from? (write a short paragraph about your character’s background before jail):
Dervla comes from Farrow Cover, having lived a somewhat mundane life on the farm. It may be that the blandness of the landscape and the monotony of farm life forced her into the fantasy world that she so often retreats to. Her parents are alive and well, and they have brought her up with little more than the hope that she would continue working the farm until she could no longer work. The alternative was to be married away, but that was never an option for Dervla.
Dervla’s grandmother taught her many things in secret. She taught her how to sew, she taught her how to find mushrooms that weren’t poisonous. She also taught Dervla how to read the stars and how to listen when the forests speak. Dervla’s grandmother was a witchy woman, but perhaps in a good way. Love was most important to her, and it had been the message that she passed along.
Dervla’s life is full of wonderment, for everything in her world is not what it seems, and everything is speaking all at once. She yearns for understanding and escape.
How did your character find themselves in jail awaiting trial? (Please write a few short paragraphs describing what poor luck brought your character to this point in their life):
It was the winds that spoke to her that morning that made her leave. They told her of terrible things to come; of empires would come crashing down and a sea of fire burning across the land. She did not take this as an apocalypse, no. It was simpler. It always was much more mundane. Somewhere there would be a fire that burns, and a life that is lost. It was as simple as that. The winds spoke of wanton destruction, for even a single life loss is a great tragedy.
Dervla left home of her own accord, hitching a ride with the next flax shipment to Mist. Upon arrival, it was the cobbles that she looked to. She was afraid, and knew how she must look.. but to save a life, she must look for the signs. So she looked. IF she follows her intuition, surely she would not be guided wrong. A series of raised cobbles led her one way, the happenstance straight line of cobbles another, the ringing of a bell, the sound of a croaking raven. All of these things guided her until she was in front of a large, gated home.
She scaled the fence, and banged on their door like a madman. “Hear to me, ye cannae run from the flames! Ye cannae run!” She banged and screamed, not noticing the children staring at her through the second story window, or the guards working their way over the gate. She picked up a loose brick from walkway below her and smashed the window beside the door, reaching in and unlatching the door to make her entrance.
Once inside, her eyes met those of an older man, and she fell to her knees pleading with him. In his hands was a fireplace poker, ready to strike. “please sir, ye must leave. Ye must abandondon yer home and flee, fer the fires be comin to steal ye away! Please sir, you MUST leave!”
The guards made their way in, one grasping her by the shoulder, another grasping her around the waist. Her hands moved swiftly to a dagger hidden away in her boot and she stabbed wildly at them. They didn’t understand what she was doing, it was wrong to hurt them, but she wouldn’t let this family burn. It was her fault, you see. She had always felt the absolute need to see things through, and often times hurt people in the process. Good intentioned, but not of the right mind to be good intentioned and perhaps too skilled with a blade to be safe.
One guard was stabbed in the throat, the other recoiled, bleeding from the wrist. This is when the man of the house swung upon her. It was darkness from there, and off to the courts. Of course, Dervla would forever assume that the house had burned to a crisp, and all of those living inside are now dead, but she’d be entirely wrong.
