What, do I look like some kinda’ wind-up monkey? Like I got nothin’ better to do? Ask someone else!

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Standing at 3'8", Caesar is much like your typical goblin. Short, scrawny, and plain ugly. With a flat face, broad nose, pointed ears, and small, jagged fangs, Caesar's most distinguishable features are his mage eyes. He has bright green sclera with a dark slit down the middle, closely resembling the eyes of a snake.

His short sleeved, silky jacket covers him to well below his knees and is tightly tied with string at the bottom left side. The sleeves of his jacket are a comfortable fit and reach down to well below his hands, they're decorated with a single thread lining from top to bottom.

The jacket has a deep, round neckline which reveals part of the luxurious shirt worn below it and is worn with a small cloth belt, which is held together by an intricate knot. The cloth belt is entirely decorative and a way to show off.




After a fairly nondescript childhood under a single mother and two older sisters, Caesar took up work at a young age under the wing of a prejudiced stage-coach driver, the profession forcing him to often embark on travel away from home. He was paid poor and had to put up with the customers’ insults but he did it to help provide for his family and put food on the table. Uneducated and illiterate, Caesar’s childhood was one of labour and disrespect. That is, until one of the regular and more tolerable customers suddenly started to wear wide-brimmed hats and cowls to cover his face.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out that the man, Preston he was called, had become a mage. His warped eyes were easy to see when you went looking for them. Caesar once threatened to out him to the authorities but quieted down when he offered information in exchange for his safety. Preston gave him books to read and answered his questions when he had any. He taught Caesar about The Doldrums and in his passion convinced Caesar that some forms of magic could be used for good. It inspired the goblin to consider following in Preston’s footsteps and try to make himself into a good example. He was already bullied for being a goblin but maybe he could use magic to prove that not all goblins fit the stereotype society has thrust upon them.

Caesar was too young and naive to realise the gravity of his actions. The first few years of apprenticeship were hit and miss. He couldn’t manage even the simplest of spells without a backfire and juggling his job and his studies left him frustrated. Not to mention he had to keep it a secret from his family and friends who would undoubtedly kick him from the home if they found out. He ended up getting hurt and exhausted but it took him almost a year to give up and ask Preston for help.

Preston agreed but took a hefty fee for the apprenticeship. Caesar couldn’t go home for too long out of guilt but he finally had a tutor who could help him achieve his dream. If it all went well, Caesar believed he could bring in more than enough money to bring his family out of poverty. Those years of apprenticeship were the happiest he had ever been and filled him with hope. However - Invernier had a knack for shattering hope. One day Caesar woke up with warped eyes and his whole life was flipped upside down.

His family found out first. His mother fainted and his sisters chased him out of the home with little more than the clothes on his back. Caesar turned to his job in the hopes of managing to scrounge up enough cash to just get by and was immediately fired. He took his skills out to the streets and was nearly arrested several times over. He took his anger out on Preston and his mentor decided he wasn’t worth the verbal abuse and also abandoned him. Caesar went from having a bright future to a lifetime of outright hostility from everyone he’d meet.

It was no surprise Caesar picked up Witching, the most vile form of magic he could think of, as a way to gain some more self-control. He needed reassurance. When he made deals with people, tried to bargain or sell whatever he could find, they would always con him or back out on their promises. Witching made sure they adhered to his terms even if they didn’t want to. After a lifetime of being used and trodden over this form of magic was highly addictive for him and he began to delve deeper and deeper into the art.

Caesar had now aged into a jaded and bitter man, old before his time, settling for fear and control over love and respect after everything his life had thrown at him. He gave up all pretense of doing good and swindled the desperate customers he would find by using loopholes and fine print in his magical contracts that would ultimately work in his favour. He had killed people to survive and ruined the lives of many more to ensure his comfort but his life was a lonely and transient existence.

During one expedition into the Wainwaters in the hopes of finding out more from the locals, Caesar was suddenly accosted by a young Carnelian girl. She kept harassing him and begging him to let her stay the night because she had nowhere to go. Under any other circumstance Caesar would have made her a binding contract but since she was a Wainwaters local and he didn’t want to get on the bad side of her relatives just yet he reluctantly let her into his tent. That night the Carnelian introduced herself as Araigne and said she was looking for a way back home. Caesar agreed to help her find her family under the condition he’d be given a chance to talk to their magi.

The Carnelian was more of a burden than Caesar had anticipated and they both spent weeks wandering through the Wainwaters, hopelessly lost. The few hovels that Araigne managed to locate had no idea where her family were nor did they know the slightest thing about magic. When the pair of them reached the entrance to the Wainwaters where Caesar came in from he decided to give up and go back before he ended up getting killed. To his annoyance the Carnelian once again pleaded to stay with him until they at least reached a settlement. He agreed.

Little did Caesar know he happened upon a seamstress the likes of which he had never seen before. Araigne used some sort of simple magic and a lifetime of skill to make beautiful clothes and Caesar took advantage of her. She was so naive that he didn’t even need to use a contract to swindle her and used her skills to get a lot of money for his own benefit. At long last he was able to buy himself things he wanted and good food instead of just scraping by. All the while Araigne was paid in pennies and treated with the bare minimum of what she needed to survive.

Then something happened that Caesar did not expect. He was certain the Carnelian would eventually get fed up and leave him but her grating niceness didn’t even falter, even when he made her walk long distances and eat food scraps. She was the kindest person Caesar had ever been with and he actually started to feel bad for using her like this. He improved Araigne’s living conditions and settled for mediocrity instead of self-indulgence. Against his own better judgement he started to get protective over his employee and took it upon himself to keep her safe, well fed and somewhat happy. For business purposes, of course.



❖ Witching Grimoires
❖ Rations
❖ Eldritch Jotter & Harpy Quill
❖ A staff disguised as a walking cane. Assists him by reinforcing certain spells and walking.
❖ Simple Steel Dagger
❖ The larger sum of his and Araigne’s income.


❖A yak for transportation, named Yak. Because it’s an animal. Not a toy.

Portait [+]

Artist:omupied.deviantart.com

"The dead bless us with their wisdom, the living curse us with their ignorance."

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Levranelle has always been one to boggle the mind. His constant blabbering of seeming jibberish is enough to unnerve most, if not that then the piercing gaze he has his will. He'll often go on and on about his pet cat Snuffles, and seems to obsess over his livelihood. He gets rather upset if you talk down to him or his cat, and will often retaliate with a sharp tongue and a swift kick to the groin. Almost seemingly to top it off, he insists he sees the souls of the dead, and can often times be found talking to the open air with vivid language explaining things to said souls. Many deem him to be insane, but others believe this probably isn't the case.

Three traits where instilled into his personality by his grandmother's teachings and the way she raised him. One, all living things deserve to be cared for, to live, to thrive. Lev hates death, destruction, and illness and will go out of his way to help out a living creature. Two, Lev will not bend his will for the desires of another. His Grandmother always said that if you live in someone else's shadow, you'll never be a light unto the world. Lev will not let his "light" be snuffed out, and will not take any flak from anyone. Levranelle Reverante was a name that would not be spit upon as long as he could help it. Three, he will be strong even in the face of the world's greatest despair. People look for hope, for love, for a future. Levranelle will not let darkness prevent him from smiling, it will not prevent him from saving a life, and it sure as hell wouldn't keep him from enjoying his life. If he is not the optimism in the room, he has stopped being Lev.


Peel back the hood and find him when he's scantily clothed and most free, Levranelle is a rather androgynous character, his dark brown, silky, long hair making it easy to mistake him as a woman from behind, and the odd youthfulness of his face making the puzzle of his gender even harder, if not for his obvious lack of breasts and feminine curves. He has few to no lines on his brow depending on his expression, and no obvious blemishes on his face. Every feature of his is somewhat elegant, from his thin brows to a full, set of impossibly pink, lips. Most notably, his eyes are piercing and yellow, in the darkness they seem rather normal if not for the color, but in the light the pupils contract into a thin line much like a cat and give away his magical nature.

Lev is rather lithe, but does not immediately seem to have much muscle. It has lead to him seeming far younger than he actually is, travellers often mistaking him for someone's errand boy. He is not of a tall stature either, evening out at about 5'6". He often wears a loose fitting shirt with a rather low neckline, and pants that flow loosely over his legs. When out and about he covers himself with a long purple scarf, made of a thin material, that he can use as a hood.


Levranelle entered the world in tragic circumstances. His father had died while "peace-keeping" with the Army of Heroes, leaving his mother to suffer the pregnancy herself. Lev was born breech, and the battle to get him out of the womb left his mother on her deathbed. Under the fool moon, his mother cradled him in her dying breaths, and whispered into the night that one day Lev would grow up to be a man with gentle hands and a heart so pure the Promised Words would one day speak of his own soul to conjure hope in the darkness. Inspired by her daughter's words, Lev's grandmother Agatha vowed to raise him according to her daughter's last reverie.

It was to be difficult, however, as Levranelle was a handful for his grandmother. He would constantly get lost in his own imagination and wander away from their cottage outside the village. She knew he would get himself lost one day, so she emplored the town for a pet for her grandson. Enter Snuffles, the long time best friend of Lev. Snuffles von Leoparte kept Lev's attention constantly, and kept Lev around the cottage long enough for him to pay attention to his grandmother's work.

Agatha was the town's healer, a hedgewitch whom healed with potions and words of power. She was like a grandmother to much of the town of Alonso, kind and gentle, and always there to offer a wise word and a kind touch. As he grew older, Lev was fascinated by the respect she garnered, and when a day came and past where she healed Snuffles of an illness, Levranelle decided for himself that he would learn from her.

On her eventual deathbed, Agatha reminisced of her life alongside Lev and Snuffles and a few of the women from the village. She told Levranelle of his mother's wishes for him, and told him that no matter what he should always try and bring hope to their town. She emplored him to take over in her stead. As her final act as his grandmother, Agatha cast a spell on Snuffles, binding his life to Lev so they would never part, and ensure her grandson was never alone.

Days after her funeral, the grief-stricken Lev began to see her ghost, unspeaking but always nearby, approving and disapproving, always just barely out of vision. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or was that really her? Unwilling to find out he accepted these visions of her. Overtime it was not just her spectre he'd see dancing right outside his vision, he'd see ghosts of his ancestors, of men and women in town he had witnessed die.

Years later, now firmly the new healer of the community, Lev claims he converses with the ghosts regularly, and that some of them guide him to new revelations of the world, and warn him of the dangers they once faced. If ever a newcomer comes to town and needs his servives, he often lets them know that the dead see all, and that it's unwise to cause a disturbance in his town.


❖ [A ceremonial blade of a dark colored steel]
❖ [A large over-the-shoulder bag used for carrying an assortment of potions and other things]
❖ [A smaller bag used for coin]
❖ [Dried meat-treats for Snuffles to keep him sated]
❖ [6-7 Potions used to treat flesh wounds, and a few others he claims help grow hair or make the skin look youthful]


Unlike the rest of our "heroes" Levranelle has spent his entire life up until now in Alonso. He lives in his grandmother's cottage a good walk just outside the village and has a store of supplies the party can pull from before they begin their journey.