Sorry again for being so terribly slow to post... I just don't know where my motivation/inspiration went.
@Overlord Thraka I'm afraid I've kept you from all the fun. Please feel free to drop the interaction with Lynn and have some fun with skeletons or alien foxes or whatnot :D
You'd think one so accustomed to traveling and odd sights would cease to be amazed at peculiar and wonderous places. Not so; if anything, Lynn feels like she's only gained a greater appreciation for the world as she's gotten older. Four years ago, she was terrified of what was outside the city walls. and it had taken her more than a few months to gather the courage to leave the place. Liva was an oppressive city, always more of a prison than a home, but it was familiar; the outside was vast and unknown and terrifying. It was only after Pietro was born that she realized the walls she was surrounding herself with, and how easily she could leave them behind.
Taking that first step was the hardest thing she'd ever done. And yet the best thing she'd ever done.
Now, four years later, Lynn is discovering she's more of an explorer than she had imagined--to say nothing of Pietro! Her little boy loves the road. Even as a baby, he would stare, transfixed, at the scenery as it passed by, and break into babbling whenever something new came into view. And now, as a 6-year-old, he treats the world as his playground, his endless curiosity somewhat satiated by the endless variety of his life. The amount of languages he's picked up in the last few years has made Lynn wish her childhood experience was similar, but…
Lynn half-sighs, half-chuckles. She can't dwell on the past; she's much too old for that. She stands up from her seat at the back of the wagon, setting aside the sunhat she'd been weaving for Pio out of some old straw. Despite the wealth of materials in the Emerald Forest, she feels oddly hesitant to harvest any of them, for food or for her own projects. It feels like the caravan is trespassing; she doesn't want to add robbery to that list of crimes.
Everything here feels like a warning sign, from the odd sickness to calls of the wildlife. Even the green of the forest is blinding and unnatural instead of deep and calming. She can't help but think the Livans would appreciate the color, at least for the first few minutes. Then they'd get bored and move on.
Lynn has to admit, she's bored of it too. She's already spent hours on her latest weaving project and taking care of Pio. He is showing symptoms too, and Lynn has him wrapped in a blanket in the back of the wagon, where it is shady and cool. She milked Dolma, the yak that pulls their wagon, this morning. Even she seems agitated; usually the yak is docile and patient, but since entering the forest, she won't stop fussing.
Speaking of which.
With a loud bump, the slow-moving wagon stops abruptly, and Dolma gives a panicked grunt. The wagon must be stuck on something again, and so Lynn goes to investigate. Sure enough, there's a large tangle of roots stopping the wagon wheel from turning. Lynn puffs her cheeks out and gathers up the long hem of her dress. Looks like pushing is the only way.
After a few minutes of effort, Lynn has accomplished nothing but working up a sweat and removing her gray shawl. She usually doesn't like being this exposed, even if her dress is modest, but the air here is sharp and yet stuffy, and the day has become hot.
"Excuse me," she calls, to nobody in particular, but noticing a figure in an imposing helmet with a very helpful amount of muscle. "Can somebody help me move my wagon?"
Human, 28, about two years with the caravan // Human, 6
✴ Appearance: Lynn has curly blonde hair that reaches just below her ears and blue eyes like the autumn sky. She was once young and beautiful, but her innocence has long since been lost, and her beauty has been weathered by years of hardship. Her eyes, once clear and bright, are now sad and tired. Her body bears the marks of abuse, hard work, and motherhood. But past her bruises, scars, and stretch marks is a resolute mother, and that determination has made her hands rougher and her arms stronger. The callouses on her hands are from her weaving.
She usually wears long robes and dresses in dark colors--gray, black, dark blue, and dark purple. She tries to hide her figure as much as possible, aware of the looks and judgement it brings.
Her dear Pietro takes much after his father, with short, black hair, wide brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his face. His round face is expressive and honest. He wears a dark blue tunic with green lizards on it--hand-woven by his mother.
Lynn was once young. She once lived a modest but happy life in the countryside, surrounded by those who loved her. And she once saw the smoke rising from her neighbor's homes, and the warlord's army descending. As a child, Lynn saw her village razed, her parents murdered, and her friends taken away to become slaves, like her. Barely a teenager and now a slave, Lynn was shipped across seas and carted across plains for more than a year, traded between the hands of merchants who dealt with humans like livestock. At the end of the journey was a city that seemed like paradise--the city of Liva.
Ah, Liva! City of color and light, city of smells and tastes and sights so wonderous one might even call it gaudy! Here, the women dress up for breakfast, then change their outfits at lunchtime, and then again for dinner, evening, and bed. Here, the men parade the streets on majestic black steeds, armor gleaming, glittering, blinding. Here, the children light firecrackers in the streets at dusk, their shouts of joy mixing with the sounds of the city--half melody, half cacophony. In Liva, festivals are held almost every day, and the people are permanently drunk with wild joy, or maybe just drunk.
In loud, blinding Liva, Lynn found herself.
Liva was lively. Yes, even beautiful; but even the most beautiful city has its flaws, and Lynn saw most of them up close. The love of beauty became vanity, the love of celebration became frenzy, and the love of love became lust. And for a city whose appetite for the beautiful, shiny, and spectacular is unending, the supply must be also be unending. With her golden curls and rapidly developing figure--a non-issue to the Lynn Protected, but a dangerous, unnerving thing to the Lynn Captured--Lynn was the perfect product. The madam of the Blue Rose, a well-to-do brothel, immediately recognized the value in the young girl, and purchased her on the spot.
She was sold at the age of 14. By 15, she was a favorite of many patrons across Liva, both important and unimportant, and Madam Rose could not be more proud of her top earner.
Those years were the hardest for Lynn. The people of Liva did everything so loudly, and she struggled to learn their flowery language and extravagant customs. And while not every client of hers was a depraved beast, all were faceless, unfeeling. She grew used to being used. Her blonde curls, once the pride of the village, were now just another reminder of the vanity of Livans. Her body was a nothing more than an encouragement to insult, to catcall, to touch, to judge, to use. She was always being touched, everywhere. Some men would hurt her. Others would barely look at her.
By the time she was 18, though, things had begun to change. Madam Rose and the Blue Rose had prospered, and the prostitutes of the brothel were treated well. Lynn ate well; she was warm and well-groomed. Her beauty had fully blossomed, and she knew how to reel in the customers with a gentle and kind demeanor. The other prostitutes knew her, and while some were jealous, others offered her advice and wisdom. She learned how to navigate Liva, learned how to speak their language like she was born there, learned to love, in least in some small part of her, their festivals, their fashion, their songs.
It was then that she was introduced to the loom. The craft of weaving captured Lynn's heart and mind. The weavers of Liva were proud and skilled craftswomen, and Lynn admired their dedication and their stern countenances--traits so not like Livans, and yet these weavers were behind all the most beautiful outfits in the city. It took time to learn the craft, and longer to convince the weavers to teach her, but soon enough Lynn had a small loom in her room, where she would weave for hours. The detailed, repetitive work soothed her; feeling the threads grounded her mind in the present, the painful memories of the last decade melted away into nothingness, and Lynn could believe she was almost happy.
Things continued like that for years. Lynn continued her work at the loom and at the brothel, dreaming of the day she could sell her work, leave the Blue Rose, and maybe even go home. The turning point came when she met Valentin.
Tall, handsome, and gentlemanly, Valentin was her client only once. Captured by Lynn's beauty and intrigued by what might lie behind her gentle persona, he returned to the Blue Rose again and again, just to catch a glimpse of the "true Lynn." Lynn was struck by Valentin's unbothered manner, his oddly modest dress, and the way he seemed to really care about her. What began as curiosity grew into a friendship, and then, eventually, a romantic relationship. For the first time in more than a decade, Lynn felt respected and loved. For the first time in years, she had hope for a better future.
At 22, Lynn gave birth to her third child, a son.
Finally. A chance at a happy life, a normal life. Away from the Blue Rose, away from Madam Rose, away from her past life. Valentin had wealth, but he was also private; with him, Lynn could spend her days weaving and caring for her son, unbothered by the judgement of society. Just them three, a happy family.
Imagine her surprise, then, when Lynn discovered that Valentin had a wife. Heartbroken and furious, she confronted Valentin, only for him to dismiss, berate, and insult her. It was when he raised his hand against her that she understood: Valentin was not going to give her the happy life she wanted. She returned to her loom in tears, her hopes and spirit crushed.
Yet, when she looked at her newborn son, she couldn't stand the idea of staying in Liva a second longer. Her son deserved better than this vapid, soulless city that had used and abused her for so long. It was clear Valentin didn't care about them and wouldn’t lift a finger to help, and Madam Rose was bound to be just as (or more) merciless.
It was decided, then: She would have to do this herself.
Lynn's departure was as unassuming as her entrance. No Livan paid mind to the woman with a baby boy in her arms, her precious loom strapped to her back, and her curls chopped off. She boarded the caravan without a second thought, refusing to look back at the city she had called home for decades. The Lynn of Liva was no more. And good riddance!
✴ Personality: Tired, so tired. Lynn has spent a lifetime being used by others, and makes one weary.
Outwardly, Lynn will appear quiet, mild, and gentle, but inside, she is a woman of resolute strength and will. She is wary of anybody or anything that could pose a threat to her child, and she's fiercely protective of her son and his happiness. Healing for herself may be impossible, but she'll do anything she can to ensure that Pietro has a long, full life ahead of him. Even if that means lying, manipulating, or seducing (hopefully not!).
Past the secrecy and distrust, though, is a warm and loving mother. Lynn wouldn't think of herself this way, but she is still capable of great love, especially to young women and children. The past year with the caravan has given her some time to relax and perhaps even heal, and her weaving and her son give her something to work for. Maybe, given enough time, she can begin to hope again.
Lynn brings with her Pietro, also called "Pio" by his mother and other children. Pio is a bright and energetic child, endlessly curious about the world. Traveling the caravan at such a young age has given him an endless supply of new things to learn and new people to talk to! He can usually be found asking never-ending questions to anyone who will answer him--under his mother's supervision, of course. Pio has an interest in magic, among many others, but his mother is unsure if he should pursue it.
✴ Motivation: To give her child a better life, and to find the children she's lost.
✴ Skills: Lynn has no magic, but she is a skilled weaver with decades of experience in the art of making clothing, from procuring supplies to dyeing garments to sewing, etc. She speaks several languages (this is to be determined when I know how many languages there are) and possesses a lovely singing voice. She is good with children and often takes care of the caravan's children.
✴ Strengths: Although she's no scholar, Lynn could be called "street smart." She knows her way around people and money and is pretty perceptive.
✴ Weaknesses: Lynn is only human; she isn't going to put up a fight against any physical or magical force. Like many of the caravan, she prefers to keep to herself, and she can't read or write. She is also incredibly touch-adverse, and will freeze up or lash out if touched without warning.
✴ Tools: Her loom and her weaving supplies. Her and Pietro rent half of a wagon from an older woman in the caravan.
What She Most Wants: for Pio to be happy.
If She Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be: True Neutral
Three Likes: Weaving, Pietro, a long nap
Three Dislikes: Being touched, being stared at, liars
Does She Follow Her Heart or Their Mind?: Heart
Worst Fear: Losing Pietro
Favorite Color: Royal Purple
Favorite Food: Tomato Sandwich.
Favorite Time of Day: Sunset.
Favorite Season: Autumn.
What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers She Worships: Lynn has prayed to them all, and none of them have answered.
Other: Lynn has had two other children in her youth, both daughters, that were taken from her soon after birth. She aches for them.
I'm always interested in this idea, and have several little character ideas that might be fun to use... but if a small group doesn't gain interest, perhaps you'd be open to a 1x1 in the same vein?
Human, 28, about one year with the caravan // Human, 6
✴ Appearance: Lynn has curly blonde hair that reaches just below her ears and blue eyes like the autumn sky. She was once young and beautiful, but her innocence has long since been lost, and her beauty has been weathered by years of hardship. Her eyes, once clear and bright, are now sad and tired. Her body bears the marks of abuse, hard work, and motherhood. But past her bruises, scars, and stretch marks is a resolute mother, and that determination has made her hands rougher and her arms stronger. The callouses on her hands are from her weaving.
She usually wears long robes and dresses in dark colors--gray, black, dark blue, and dark purple. She tries to hide her figure as much as possible, aware of the looks and judgement it brings.
Her dear Pietro takes much after his father, with short, black hair, wide brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his face. His round face is expressive and honest. He wears a dark blue tunic with green lizards on it--hand-woven by his mother.
Lynn was once young. She once lived a modest but happy life in the countryside, surrounded by those who loved her. And she once saw the smoke rising from her neighbor's homes, and the warlord's army descending. As a child, Lynn saw her village razed, her parents murdered, and her friends taken away to become slaves, like her. Barely a teenager and now a slave, Lynn was shipped across seas and carted across plains for more than a year, traded between the hands of merchants who dealt with humans like livestock. At the end of the journey was a city that seemed like paradise--the city of Liva.
Ah, Liva! City of color and light, city of smells and tastes and sights so wonderous one might even call it gaudy! Here, the women dress up for breakfast, then change their outfits at lunchtime, and then again for dinner, evening, and bed. Here, the men parade the streets on majestic black steeds, armor gleaming, glittering, blinding. Here, the children light firecrackers in the streets at dusk, their shouts of joy mixing with the sounds of the city--half melody, half cacophony. In Liva, festivals are held almost every day, and the people are permanently drunk with wild joy, or maybe just drunk.
In loud, blinding Liva, Lynn found herself.
Liva was lively. Yes, even beautiful; but even the most beautiful city has its flaws, and Lynn saw most of them up close. The love of beauty became vanity, the love of celebration became frenzy, and the love of love became lust. And for a city whose appetite for the beautiful, shiny, and spectacular is unending, the supply must be also be unending. With her golden curls and rapidly developing figure--a non-issue to the Lynn Protected, but a dangerous, unnerving thing to the Lynn Captured--Lynn was the perfect product. The madam of the Blue Rose, a well-to-do brothel, immediately recognized the value in the young girl, and purchased her on the spot.
She was sold at the age of 14. By 15, she was a favorite of many patrons across Liva, both important and unimportant, and Madam Rose could not be more proud of her top earner.
Those years were the hardest for Lynn. The people of Liva did everything so loudly, and she struggled to learn their flowery language and extravagant customs. And while not every client of hers was a depraved beast, all were faceless, unfeeling. She grew used to being used. Her blonde curls, once the pride of the village, were now just another reminder of the vanity of Livans. Her body was a nothing more than an encouragement to insult, to catcall, to touch, to judge, to use. She was always being touched, everywhere. Some men would hurt her. Others would barely look at her.
By the time she was 18, though, things had begun to change. Madam Rose and the Blue Rose had prospered, and the prostitutes of the brothel were treated well. Lynn ate well; she was warm and well-groomed. Her beauty had fully blossomed, and she knew how to reel in the customers with a gentle and kind demeanor. The other prostitutes knew her, and while some were jealous, others offered her advice and wisdom. She learned how to navigate Liva, learned how to speak their language like she was born there, learned to love, in least in some small part of her, their festivals, their fashion, their songs.
It was then that she was introduced to the loom. The craft of weaving captured Lynn's heart and mind. The weavers of Liva were proud and skilled craftswomen, and Lynn admired their dedication and their stern countenances--traits so not like Livans, and yet these weavers were behind all the most beautiful outfits in the city. It took time to learn the craft, and longer to convince the weavers to teach her, but soon enough Lynn had a small loom in her room, where she would weave for hours. The detailed, repetitive work soothed her; feeling the threads grounded her mind in the present, the painful memories of the last decade melted away into nothingness, and Lynn could believe she was almost happy.
Things continued like that for years. Lynn continued her work at the loom and at the brothel, dreaming of the day she could sell her work, leave the Blue Rose, and maybe even go home. The turning point came when she met Valentin.
Tall, handsome, and gentlemanly, Valentin was her client only once. Captured by Lynn's beauty and intrigued by what might lie behind her gentle persona, he returned to the Blue Rose again and again, just to catch a glimpse of the "true Lynn." Lynn was struck by Valentin's unbothered manner, his oddly modest dress, and the way he seemed to really care about her. What began as curiosity grew into a friendship, and then, eventually, a romantic relationship. For the first time in more than a decade, Lynn felt respected and loved. For the first time in years, she had hope for a better future.
At 26, Lynn gave birth to her third child, a son.
Finally. A chance at a happy life, a normal life. Away from the Blue Rose, away from Madam Rose, away from her past life. Valentin had wealth, but he was also private; with him, Lynn could spend her days weaving and caring for her son, unbothered by the judgement of society. Just them three, a happy family.
Imagine her surprise, then, when Lynn discovered that Valentin had a wife. Heartbroken and furious, she confronted Valentin, only for him to dismiss, berate, and insult her. It was when he raised his hand against her that she understood: Valentin was not going to give her the happy life she wanted. She returned to her loom in tears, her hopes and spirit crushed.
Yet, when she looked at her newborn son, she couldn't stand the idea of staying in Liva a second longer. Her son deserved better than this vapid, soulless city that had used and abused her for so long. It was clear Valentin didn't care about them and wouldn’t lift a finger to help, and Madam Rose was bound to be just as (or more) merciless.
It was decided, then: She would have to do this herself.
Lynn's departure was as unassuming as her entrance. No Livan paid mind to the woman with a baby boy in her arms, her precious loom strapped to her back, and her curls chopped off. She boarded the caravan without a second thought, refusing to look back at the city she had called home for decades. The Lynn of Liva was no more. And good riddance!
✴ Personality: Tired, so tired. Lynn has spent a lifetime being used by others, and makes one weary.
Outwardly, Lynn will appear quiet, mild, and gentle, but inside, she is a woman of resolute strength and will. She is wary of anybody or anything that could pose a threat to her child, and she's fiercely protective of her son and his happiness. Healing for herself may be impossible, but she'll do anything she can to ensure that Pietro has a long, full life ahead of him. Even if that means lying, manipulating, or seducing (hopefully not!).
Past the secrecy and distrust, though, is a warm and loving mother. Lynn wouldn't think of herself this way, but she is still capable of great love, especially to young women and children. The past year with the caravan has given her some time to relax and perhaps even heal, and her weaving and her son give her something to work for. Maybe, given enough time, she can begin to hope again.
Lynn brings with her Pietro, also called "Pio" by his mother and other children. Pio is a bright and energetic child, endlessly curious about the world. Traveling the caravan at such a young age has given him an endless supply of new things to learn and new people to talk to! He can usually be found asking never-ending questions to anyone who will answer him--under his mother's supervision, of course. Pio has an interest in magic, among many others, but his mother is unsure if he should pursue it.
✴ Motivation: To give her child a better life, and to find the children she's lost.
✴ Skills: Lynn has no magic, but she is a skilled weaver with decades of experience in the art of making clothing, from procuring supplies to dyeing garments to sewing, etc. She speaks several languages (this is to be determined when I know how many languages there are) and possesses a lovely singing voice. She is good with children and often takes care of the caravan's children.
✴ Strengths: Although she's no scholar, Lynn could be called "street smart." She knows her way around people and money and is pretty perceptive.
✴ Weaknesses: Lynn is only human; she isn't going to put up a fight against any physical or magical force. Like many of the caravan, she prefers to keep to herself, and she can't read or write. She is also incredibly touch-adverse, and will freeze up or lash out if touched without warning.
✴ Tools: Her loom and her weaving supplies. Her and Pietro rent half of a wagon from an older woman in the caravan.
What She Most Wants: for Pio to be happy.
If She Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be: True Neutral
Three Likes: Weaving, Pietro, a long nap
Three Dislikes: Being touched, being stared at, liars
Does She Follow Her Heart or Their Mind?: Heart
Worst Fear: Losing Pietro
Favorite Color: Royal Purple
Favorite Food: Tomato Sandwich.
Favorite Time of Day: Sunset.
Favorite Season: Autumn.
What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers She Worships: Lynn has prayed to them all, and none of them have answered.
Other: Lynn has had two other children in her youth, both daughters, that were taken from her soon after birth. She aches for them.
@Tortoise I think I'll make my own! Fun worldbuilding practice. Are there any recommendations / guidelines / hard no's when it comes to content within the character's backstory? Right now, my character is a former prostitute, and I just wanted to make sure there were no objections to that. There's no graphic content in the backstory, but if anyone is uncomfortable with the concept, I can make a different character.
@Tortoise My current idea is a mother and her child. Not sure if there will be much magic involved. Also, is there a list of the current nations / places? I might not use any of them, but I want to know if there are any already created cities that might house my character's backstory. Good to build on others ideas and all that.
aaaa i look away for two seconds and two weeks pass! again i have to apologize for being so slow at everything. not giving up on my boi chunjiro but my inspiration for rpguild has slowed to a crawl, at least for now. trying to get back into it.
Noctis
Crimson Flame
Tortoise