Tortoise

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Ok, here you go. I'm happy with how it turned out but amenable to suggestions.

If I had any friends, they would call me…Gru

Gruyere Emmentaler Caerphilly Yarg

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:
Human (Supposedly), 34, 2 years 8 months and 1 day

Appearance:
Though ostensibly human, Gru possesses an odd assortment of shapes and proportions that make him seem less like a real person and more like a caricature come to life. Standing on the shorter side at a mere 5’7”, Gru possesses a somewhat unimpressive, heavyset physique, with thin arms and legs, a rotund middle, and not much neck, which his hunched posture certainly doesn’t help. His eyes are small, sunken, and a beady black. He bears a very prominent hooked nose, a strong chin made even stronger by his pointed goatee, and what might be termed a triple mustache with three tapered lengths extending to either side. It’s wenge, a dark drab brown, like his somewhat greasy hair, which is worn slicked back with a long, thin ponytail. Large, scruffy eyebrows and sideburns complete the look. His skin is quite pale, though it gets quite pink around his nose, ears, chin, et cetera

History:
For centuries, if anyone were to go searching around the world for a place they could call ‘paradise’, they might have very well ended up at Arcadia, the Valley of Plenty. Its famous black soil, rich with minerals and impossibly fertile, can be traced back to the activity of volcanoes that arose long ago thanks to the region’s fault line. Exactly when settlers first arrived to farm the valley is up for debate, but eventually people of all shapes and sizes would flock to the region in an unprecedented gold rush not for metal, but for grain. For a time budding nations fought over the Valley of Plenty, but after almost destroying the area’s natural beauty and abundance forever, wiser heads prevailed in the nick of time to strike a truce. The paradise became Arcadia, a no-man’s land and a shared blessing to all, governed by a council with representatives from various nations and hailed by many as the agricultural capital of the world. It would remain that way for an age, so valuable to surrounding nations that any threat to it would result in action from all the rest, keeping the Valley of Plenty in peace.

During that time, many mercantile guilds would come and go, managing trade both within Arcadia and with foreign countries. With so many competing interests, its economy was in a state of constant flux, but a few guilds endured. One was the Chemists’ Guild. It specialized in investment, repayment, research, and development, with fingers in countless given pies at any one moment despite the rather tight-knit, clandestine nature with which it operated. The Chemists provided miraculous fertilizers and other products that enriched their clients with harvests of unprecedented bounty even for Arcadia, with vegetables and livestock larger than usual, as well as cultivation of crops not typically climate with the region. Other suppliers just couldn’t compete. Despite the whispers about unconventional, even occult methods, official investigators found nothing amiss, and the Chemists became rich. Of course, they new this couldn’t last. In their underground laboratories they pursued ever more ambitious means to combat soil depletion and ensure that the perennial bumper crop never wavered. One day, things went wrong.

That night, there was no massive explosion. No destruction or indication of any calamity whatsoever. Yet in the morning, with no fanfare, the Chemists quietly packed their bags and left. Those who saw them thought nothing of it, for the Chemists often traveled to secure the rare and exotic materials for their craft, but in the weeks afterward things began to change. It began with the soil, as it became slightly discolored, adopting an odd, fuzzy texture. The crops planted at the time began to experience accelerated growth, initially celebrated by the farmers as the Chemists’ latest innovation made free to all in as a mark of respect for the age-old, often-forgotten tradition of Arcadian generosity. But as large as they grew, the crops weren’t quite right. They came out with strange colors and textures, tasting terrible. Livestock experienced madness and premature death. Soon, the people began to curse the Chemists for unleashing a plague upon them. Those with the means began to leave, but the rest did what they could to purge the disease and try again for the better. Instead, things continued to worsen. Strange, fuzzy growths appeared all over the ground. Animals began to experience grotesque deformities, dying or rampaging in large numbers. The people who remained were in denial, eventually to a delusional extent, and evidencing signs of infection themselves. Attempts at stopping the infection failed, and soon the whole valley was under quarantine.

Within months, fungal mold had infested all of Arcadia, taking over and eventually consuming everything that had ever eaten infected food. Few witnesses ever risked going into what would come to be known as Mycelia, the Valley of Blight, but disturbing rumors got out about what happened deep inside. They say that the mold eventually replaced everything that it killed. Mold birds singing in mold trees that bore mold fruits. Mold predators roaming mold woods hunting mold beasts that nibbled mold grass. Mold farmers tilling mold fields and selling mold grains. Mold men worshiping mold gods and dreaming mold dreams about a land of perfect peace and happiness with neither grief, nor disparity, nor greed.

Well before the point that the ruin of Arcadia became known far and wide, a man who called himself Gruyere E.C. Yarg, known to his friends as Gru (if only he had any, as he often jokes), joined the Pilgrim’s Caravan with a small carriage run by rats. Styling himself as a self-made merchant, he used his travels with them to run a small-scale cheese-making operation. Rather than horde money, he put most of his earnings back into his business, either improving his ever-evolving Chuck Wagon or purchasing milk, feed, rennet, grapes, salt, and cheese-making tips from the various farms he visited during his travels. Gradually he’d build up a reputation as a sleazy-looking but reliable itinerant merchant, his quality products (if not his attitude) earning him a good reputation. Like many members of the Caravan, he doesn’t talk about his past much, and if asked only ever mentions a boring and humble beginning in the small village of Stilton, never bothering to mention where it was. The past, as Gru says, is behind him. He wants nothing more than to practice his beloved craft, care for his beloved rats, and live a comfortable, quiet life.

Personality:
To most, Gruyere would appear to be the archetypal unsavory businessman or snake oil salesman. He’s greedy, cunning, jocular, and capricious, bitingly sarcastic one moment and an obsequious lickspittle the next. Whatever it takes to make the sale. In fact, his manner sometimes undermines the fact that his products are actually very high quality, made to his exacting standards. In terms of his business dealings, he’s actually pretty honest. He’s just not very nice. Highly secretive and private, both about his trade skills and life, he isn’t very social and minds his own business as much as possible. While he doesn’t like conflict, he’s competitive and vindictive, never forgetting a slight. He cares a lot about his rats, both for their own sake and for the joy they bring him, and he gives them all the love that withholds from his fellow man. A perennial miser, he never does anything for free, and he expects anyone he deals with to honor their word

Motivation: To continue building up his business and ‘family’ in pursuit of a comfortable life

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:

• + Cheesemonger: Gru’s trade skill. He’s cultivated almost encyclopedic knowledge of how to make cheeses, from the chemistry of their creation to the tools needed to produce them. The cheeses he makes are of very high quality and nutritional value, and he prides himself on their appearances and flavors across a whole host of different styles. This is how he makes his money while in the Caravan; taking and orders while on the road, selling pre-made cheeses or taking orders for clients, then aging the cheeses he makes until the Caravan visits them again and he can fulfill those orders. Somewhat more recently he’s also tried diversifying into wine, a trade that demands even more patience but pairs well with his main craft. He makes these foodstuffs with a speed and efficiency few can match
• + Friend of Animals: Gru is much better with animals than he is with people. This extends to most (domesticated) animals, so whether it’s cows, goats, sheep, or even camels and yaks, they feel comfortable and affectionate around him, and he around them. This means he can often get top yield from whatever animals he encounters, and he’s a surprisingly good companion on hunts
• + Rat Authority - His natural bond with one animal completely transcends all the rest: rats. For whatever reason, he’s so completely in-tune with rats that they lack any fear of or hostility toward him, even in huge numbers. He knows how to take good care of rats, and ‘his’ rats listen to him almost unconditionally, obeying his orders like trained dogs and exhibiting unusual intelligence, strength, and dexterity. This goes double for his four favorite rats: Pepper Jack, Rick Otta, Wensley Dale, and Reggie Ano. If Gru is the general, they are the captains. Working as hordes under his command, his rats are capable of astonishing feats, so much so that one can’t help but wonder if this bond is supernatural
• + The Chuck Wagon: Named after his father Charles, Gru’s personal method of transportation is possibly the most impressive thing about him. It’s the largest wagon in the Pilgrim’s Caravan by far, and isn’t just a living space, but a mobile cheese factory that he’s put huge amounts of money into perfecting. It’s divided into ‘wet’ and ‘dry’ halves, each with their own doors on the right side. The wet half is essentially a laboratory, with multiple vats and tanks for liquid storage, milk coagulation, curd separation, brining, and so forth, all watertight and able to be locked down during travel. There’s even vat for the crushing and fermentation of grapes The dry half has shelves for drying and aging cheese (and also wine), and is where Gru lives. The top floor of the Chuck Wagon, about a foot in height and known as the ‘attic’, is a compartment reserved exclusively for his rats. They have little houses in there with straw bedding, food stores, etc, and on good days Gru can open up the top of the wagon to make the little village open to the air. On the left side of the wagon are two large silos, one filled with water and the other with rat food, including grains, seeds, and nuts. Perhaps most interesting is how the wagon moves; instead of being drawn by horses or other beasts of burden, it has eight enormous wheels, four in the front and four in the back. These are hollow and function as giant hamster wheels, making the Chuck Wagon entirely rat-powered. The rats work the wheels (and, under Gru’s supervision, the kitchen) in shifts and go up into the attic to rest
• - Noncombatant: Gru isn’t really a fighter. He doesn’t have the constitution for it, nor the interest. He prefers to get others -people or otherwise- to do his fighting for him, especially if there’s serious risk and/or publicity involved
• - Something Irreplaceable: Although Gru’s greatest strength, the Chuck Wagon is also his greatest weakness. It’s very important to him, and he’s extremely averse to any damage to it. Losing it is practically out of the question, and there’s very little he wouldn’t do to keep it safe. After all, it’s not just the source of his livelihood; it’s everything he owns, and without it, he’d be almost nothing. The same goes for his rats. While losing them isn’t the end of the world, they’re all his friends, and not just tools for him
• - Unlikeable: In contrast to animals, people generally don’t like him, and he doesn’t like them. His generally acerbic attitude makes it difficult for genuine relationships to form, and he prefers businesslike arrangements of give and take where expectations are clear and no strings are attached

Hidden Depths

Mycomancy
Gru isn’t just a businessman. He’s also a practitioner of a dark school of magic that manipulates fungi, especially mold–a fact he’s gone to great lengths to hide. He only ever practices it in the privacy of the Chuck Wagon’s interior, and even then in very small scale, manipulating mold to make cheese and the yeast that ferments wine to speed up the processes. In his time with the Caravan to date, he’s never needed to resort to using it for combat in front of the others, instead relying on his rats for self-defense. However, it’s possible for him to infest living things with mold that corrupt and weaken them from within, reducing their speed and defense so much that even he can kill them easily, let alone his rats. This mold can also be used to break down and dispose of dead organic matter, and create mold creatures under his control

Gru also owns four cheese-making tools that he keeps in his Chuck Wagon which happen to be usable as weapons. This includes:

• Two cheese knives the size of scimitars, curved and with double-pointed tips
• A cheese fork with a shaft so long it functions as a bident
• A spico, a kind of curd-cutting tool about the size and shape of a large mace, but with a head shaped like a round cage of blades
• A curd harp, essentially a shovel where the head is a square array of cutting blades

He could try fighting with these if he wanted, but they're mostly wielded by his favorite rats when they become Rat Kings. This is when Gru commands them to use swarms of their fellow rats to create large, bear-shaped rat masses that Pepper, Rick, Wensley, and Reggie 'pilot'. These Rat Kings are very strong, but since at least a few rats die whenever the Rat Kings take a hit, they'll typically fall back to regroup if threatened with serious losses

Extra Details

Greatest Desire: To never face the consequences of his actions

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Three Likes: His rats, his cheese, and his trade

Three Dislikes: Nosy people, unreasonable people, unmanageable people

Driving Organ: After seeing where his mind got him, Gru decided to follow his heart

Worst Fear: His secret getting out

Favorite Color: Wine red

Most Like The Animal: It’s hard to say

Favorite Time of Day: Dinnertime

Style of Dress: Gru dresses in the style of early industrialists, like the archetypal oil baron, with a rough, outdoorsy sort of formal wear. He’s given to large, heavy, long coats, expensive but still highly functional, worn over a pinstriped suit vest and pants with accompanying tie, ascot, or bow tie (his favorite). He prefers dark, desaturated colors, including black, brown, gray, and red. Most often he wears gray, accentuated by wine red. He’s seldom seen without gloves or boots, a mix of function and (perhaps questionable) fashion that nevertheless form a iconic aesthetic. Most iconic of all are his very small dark spectacles and his tricorn hat. That hat’s side flaps are much larger and rounder than the forward one, which together with its pink underside give the impression of big, floppy ears. One other thing to note is that all of his coats seemingly have a big gray fur collar. On closer inspection, this collar is actually a mass of live rats, so he literally has rats on him at all times (when possible, anyway). He also keeps one of his four favorite rats under his hat at all times, which itself wears a hat while doing so

Favorite Season: Spring, the best season for farm animals to feed on fresh growth, and thus the best season for cheese

Beliefs: That everybody deserves a second chance

@Lugubrious

Oh.

...wow.

This is the best sheet I've seen thus far. It has a character mixed with revulsion, mystery and humor, and at the same time adds to the Lore of Alwyne beautifully. The Fall of Arcadia's part of our history now. And, furthermore- I can't help but wonder if we'll visit the Valley of Blight on our travels? Mayhaps you'll pick it as our Destination, when it's your turn? I got some The Colour Out of Space vibes when I was reading what happened to it.

Regardless, Gru is double-extra approved. My only request is that you change the part where it says that his caravan is "the largest" in the group to saying that it's simply "one of the largest," so that other players don't feel limited in how big they can go.

P.S.

He also keeps one of his four favorite rats under his hat at all times, which itself wears a hat while doing so

Adorable.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

@Tortoise

To be fair, a lunatic screeching about THE SUN AND THE LIGHT with scrawled snakes all over their wall in questionable fluids does sound pretty survival horror.

@Enigmatik

I KNEW IT.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

@Crusader Lord

The Dinnin are a crossover event with another one of Tort's RPs (technically two since there's a fantasy and sci-fi version of them) with three seperate sub-societies all grouped under the 'Dinnin' banner. Excited to get into them if I get the chance!

@Enigmatik

Yeah at this point I just assume that every RP I make is gonna connect to the Dinnin, one way or another. They're turning into the extended universe of my games.

I'mma make a horror survival RP some day and you'll find a way to have a character who follows the Dinnin's faith wandering around the abandoned insane asylum somehow.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

For those wondering, yes, dwarves of all genders and sexes have beards. At least the Dinnin kind.

@Enigmatik

I like to imagine they're born with stubble.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Made a few edits, so want a quick thumbs up before I go ahead and slap these back in the character section.

Malleck

Malleck 'Freepaw'

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:
Malleck belongs to the Ainok- a race of humanoid canines indigenous to Alywne's savannahs and deserts, with significant variety between individual specimens. A quick way to irritate almost all of them is to mistake them for Gnolls, their bitter enemies. He's young for most races, at 20, but reached maturity five years prior, and has been travelling with the caravan for three years.

Appearance:
Malleck has dusty fur, blotched with natural camouflage in hues that range from sandy khakis to deep blacks, with a noticeable cross pattern that stretches from his muzzle to his nose, the crossbar reaching to the ends of his brows. He has a shaggy plume of hair that's been braided and tied with baubles and other accessories in an attempt to tame it, and bright amber eyes with black sclera. He stands at around 5'5", a normal height for Ainoks, with the typical tight-wound muscle. His fur serves double duty to both cool him in warm environments and warm him in cool ones, meaning he usually eschews more clothing than a simple tunic, covered in straps and bags to help him carry anything he needs on the road.

History & Personality:
The Ainok are a semi-nomadic people who live as a periphery ally of the desert's great Dinnin kingdoms. Travelling throughout the dry seasons, Ainok clans, usually made from extended family units settle into temporary pastoral settlements during the wet season to reap the benefits of nature's sudden flourishing. A true-blood Ainok through and through, Malleck has grown up with this cycle- from his time as a pup on his mother's back to an adult of fifteen, expected to be able to hunt and provide for his family.

But, Malleck always sought out more than this. He was born under the light of Otota the dancing star, his paws always itched during the wet season, eager to be on the road again, eating up the dusty miles. He bid farewell to his family when he was sixteen, departing alongside a merchant caravan returning from trade with one of the Great Clans deeper into the desert. Although he had had brief interactions with outsiders before- the Ainok are no strangers to traders, caravaners, hunters and even the occasional hostile band, this was the first time he had been truly exposed to different cultures and ways of thinking, and he loved it.

He drank in the diversity and the uniqueness, adding their tales sand stories to his own mind, and whenever he could take the opportunity to tell them and retell them at the fire, enhancing his own tales as he did so. It is one thing to have a firm grasp of a single method of storytelling- quite another to begin to understand the universal traits that sapient species use in their myths and legends, and to weave them together.

Soon after the caravan arrived in settled lands however, one of the guards informed him that there was an even better option out there. The Pilgrim's Caravan was, coincidentally, in the same city they were, and with thanks to his previous travelling companions, he joined up, bringing with him his stories, while being always eager to learn more.

Motivation:
Malleck is a classic example of someone filled with wanderlust, and travels both out of a desire to see the world and to imitate the passage the Dancing Star of Otota makes across the skies. He knows not when his wandering will end, or if it even will at all, but is more than happy to stick with the Pilgrim's Caravan for as long as it stops his feet from itching.

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:
As an open and gleeful follower of Otota, Malleck is expected to be able to bring cheer wherever he wanders. to this end, he has immersed himself in the entertaining arts- music, singing, storytelling and dance. He can work his magic with only a willing audience, but any instrument is obviously a boon. A not-insignificant part of his memory is dedicated to the countless tales he's heard and repeated across his pilgrimage, but for all this knowledge, he is undoubtably rather 'book dumb.' Coming from an oral culture, Malleck can neither read nor write, and he has neither inclination nor patience to dedicate himself to learning how to do so. He also cannot swim and easily and violently becomes motion sick, preferring to walk if at all possible over sitting in a caravan or boat.

As with most long time travellers, Malleck can defend himself- after all, he comes from a community of hunters and herdsmen, frequently in conflict, but fighting against other sapients always sat ill with him. It felt wrong- dirty, almost undivine in a way, and so instead he much prefers to laugh off an insult than to take a swing. For self-defence, he prefers anything that can extend his reach and put some distance between himself and his foe- be that a spear, stave or simply a sufficiently long and durable stick. When it comes to magic, Malleck's powers are extremely limited- he is neither a shaman nor wizard- although he practices the Ainok's typical astronomical fortune-telling and can produce a few minor illusions, mend a broken rope or help seal a small cut, anything greater than this is beyond his abilities.

Optional: Extra Details

What They Most Want:
They'll figure it out at some point!

If They Had a D&D Alignment, It Would Be:
Chaotic Good

Three Likes:
The sound of laughter, a well-cooked meal, a new story to learn.

Three Dislikes:
Gnolls, betraying his trust, being unable to see the stars at night.

Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:
Heart! Part of the job, honestly.

Worst Fear:
Forgetting

Favourite Color:
All of them!

Most Like The Animal:
'Dog' would be pretty stereotypical, but also wrong. Malleck's more like a songbird of some kind.

Favourite Time of Day:
Deepest night- where the stars shine the clearest, and the fire seems that much brighter.

How They Dress:
As minimally as possible so other peoples aren't offended. He has fur for a reason.

Favourite Season:
The dry season! What do you mean most places don't count a 'wet' and 'dry' season?

What Gods/Spirits/Whatever They Worship (If Any):
The Ainoks of the savannah worship the stars- which come into view so brightly and clearly each night when the sun sets. They believe that these stars are each Gods in their own right, and that those born under the light and influence of various celestial bodies are favoured or disfavoured by these Gods. Malleck was born under the light of the so-called 'Dancing Star,' otherwise known as the Goddess Otota. One of the brightest stars in the sky, Otota is also unusual in that it is never stationary, swaying across the sky from night to night. Because of this, Otota holds a special place within the Ainok pantheon as the Goddess of gaiety, enjoyment, fertility, pleasure, and so on and so forth. Malleck considers himself a staunch follower of Otota's light, and it is under her auspex that he travels.

Notes/Worldbuilding:

Ainok do not traditionally use last names, as by and large they stay within small familial groups, and even during interactions between groups, misunderstandings are easily avoided. 'Freepaw' is a rough translation of the Ainok term for a wanderer who has willingly left their family, distinguishing Malleck from a banished and disgraced Ainok.

Gadri Abzan

Gadri Abzan

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:
Dwarf, 237 years old, caravaneer for some 70-odd years.

Appearance:

Gadri stands at a squat and broad 4'6", with the powerful muscles and roughened hands of a craftsdwarf. They complete the look with a heavy toolbelt and many of their own crafts dotting their appearance. To accompany this, they usually don a padded and reinforced turban, covering up short-cropped hair. As with all dwarves, they lovingly take care of their beard, which is carefully braided and knotted around silver rings. In the forge they don a thick apron, heavy duty gloves and sturdy boots, which they trade for finer robes and heavy khohl when out and abour.

Many of the intricacies of Dinnin-dwarvish appearance can easily be missed by those who are not used to the desert-dwelling branch of the race, from how they braid their facial hair to the precise location of jewllery and clothing folds. To those in the know, the braiding of their beard and the cut and manufacture of their clothes tell that Gadri is a tetra- a 'third gender' that Dinnin-dwarves recognise, believing some to be closer to the stone that formed the race than others. Additionally, they are clearly not only a craftsman, but one of the rare scriptsmiths, a unique dwarven trade- as evidenced by the words intricately woven across much of their jewellery.

History:

Gadri's story begins in one of the holds of the Great Clans that litter the desert who settle within valleys and crevasses among great mountains in order to minimise the effects of the ancient Covenant made between the Dinnin and their God. The dwarves who lived in these territories were slowly incorporated into the Clans, being neither strictly Dinnin, nor exactly Kaffin, much as the Ainok are.

It was here, as part of Clan Abzan, that Gadri was born. Apprenticed as a smith at a young age, they grew up in the hold, working with steel and flames, directing the kaffin that laboured under the watchful gaze of their betters, and being brought up in all the ways a true dwarf was supposed to behave. Their skill with smithing earned them the attention of a scriptsmith (what other dwarves would consider 'runesmithing,' although using the Dinnin script rather than an indiginous dwarvish one, lending it certain unique attributes.) This was no small thing- becoming a scriptsmith takes a significant portion of a dwarves young life- lasting almost a century, including several decades of their dwarvish adolescence.

Hard, delicate and precise toil forged a dwarf meticulous over details and extremely proficient in their craft, but alas, Gadri was not destined to bring honour to their clan and forge great crafts for the emir. Instead, fate took a different path. As so often happens with the delicate web of politics that make up the Holds, skullduggery and backstabbing reared its ugly head up, and as the mess settled, Gadri's hammer was stained with the blood of a fellow Abzan.

Kinslaying, regardless of reason, is a dire crime within the Holds, and although their skill as a scriptsmith was enough to save their life, Gadri could no longer stay in the holds. The back of their right hand was marked with a heavy brand and they were cast out of the hold.

Personality:

Gadri is a dwarf. A rather dwarfish sort of dwarf, although one tinged by their Dinnin faith and life experiences on the road. They abstain from intoxicants (other than coffee and nutmeg, both of which are rare to encounter on the road,) dedicate themselves to their craft, and are generally rather taciturn and stoic. Despite this, they've travelled with the caravan and had a long enough life to be a valuable source of information.

As any craftsdwarf ought to, Gadri is protective of the unique skills that their species have developed, but eager to share the fundementals of working with steel and silver. When in the forge they are strict, serious and focused, expecting orders to be followed quickly and correctly, and harsh on those that dissapoint them, although they'd argue this is the best way to learn.

Motivation:
An exile from their people, Gadri has no real home to turn to. For them, the almost seventy years they've spent within the caravan makes it as good as their home. One day, perhaps, they would like to wash the blood from their hands and return to their homeland... But until that day comes, they serve as the caravan's premiere smith and metalworker.

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:

A dwarven smith is always in high demand no matter where they go, and Gadri happily serves as the Caravan's main arificer. Most of the time, this is little more than mending wagons or repairing old tools, but they also tinker with some of the metals purchased along the road, turning them into new crafts that can fetch a higher profit than just their base ingredients. In addition, they take great pride in maintaining any weapons or armour entrusted to them, and those willing to pay the dwarf's (sometimes extortionate) fees can find themselves with some truly beautiful pieces of art. In order to facilitate this work, Gadri's wagon has been extensively personalised and customised to turn it into a true rolling smithy, able to be set up and taken down in only a few hours, less if others assist them with it.

Even with all this though, Gadri is still falliable. Most obviously is their position as an exile - something they've kept carefully disguised from all but a tiny minority among the caravan. Then there is the natural peccadillos of dwarves - slow over long distances (but natural sprinters) water-averse and prone to nurture grudges for decades.

Scriptsmithing

Like all dwarves, Gadri is unusually magically resistant- both to the hostile effects of magic cast upon them, and for the purposes of channeling magic themselves. Dwarves are not immune from magical effects- a fireball still scorches them and some can indeed channel arcane power, but dwarves as a whole have instead developed their own system of bending the immaterial to their will- Scriptsmithing. Known by several other names- runesmithing, glyphcrafting, and so on and so forth, the core of scriptsmithing is the same. With strike of hammer and bloom of flame, dwarves can imbue items, thereafter elevated to 'artifacts' with potent magical power. Each scriptsmith goes through decades of their life training in scriptsmithing- from days as a journeyman apprentice, writing and reciting the words, to a proficient student, capable of wielding the hammer themselves, to finally a fully qualified smith, each hammerblow pulling from sources beyond to fill their crafts with power.

By now, Gadri is a more than competent scriptsmith, capable of forging great artifacts for others, should they have the time and ingredients to do so. The very finest of scriptsmith crafts are made from the legendary 'starmetal,' believed to be leftover fragments of ancient Gods that came before the Light. In its raw form, starmetal is fantastically magically unstable, throwing out wayward energies that sicken and even kill those handling it unprotected- but the dwarves, with their natural resistances, are able to forge and refine it, creating artifacts with a beautiful damascene finish. Fantastically rare, Gadri has only three precious artifacts made from this stuff- their hammer, chisel, and a single ring, each one with its script woven with their own hands.

Scriptsmithing's potential, in the hands of a master smith, is almost unlimited. So long as one knows the words with which to express their intent, a scriptsmith can create anything from wondrous automata to staves capable of stopping a rampaging oliphaunt dead in its tracks. Alas, such a thing requires a dwarf far more ancient and far more competent than Gadri, whose crafts, while still potent, are greatly limited by not only their resources but also their age. One simply does not become a master scriptsmith in a century or two.

Optional: Extra Details

What They Most Want:
A grand piece of starmetal, to return home.

If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:
True Neutral.

Three Likes:
Nutmeg-infused coffee, a roaring forge, a well-made craft.

Three Dislikes:
Politics, their beard being mussed, the biting cold.

Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:
Once, their heart. Once.

Worst Fear:
Never returning home.

Favorite Color:
The damascene sheen of starmetal.

Most Like The Animal:
The humble termite. Hardworking, fastidious, and capable of raising crafts that will long outlive themselves.

Favorite Time of Day:
The early morning, with a fresh-brewed cup of coffee, and a freshly-awoken forge, a day of work stretching ahead.

How They Dress:
Like the merchant that they are.

Favorite Season:
Autumn - before the nights become freezing in the desert, but where the midday sun is cool enough to allow forgework.

What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers They Worship (If Any):
Although the dwarves of the Dinnin mountains traditionally worshipped their own pantheon, increasingly they've turned to the way of the Concord, and the faith of the Light.

@Enigmatik

You spin off characters effortlessly, as always. Malleck is approved. Gadri is double-approved: a desert dwarf, outcast from their clan, with a mobile forge and a unique way of working runes? I love all those things.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

@Tortoise, I have no time, sadly.

@Letter Bee

Sad to hear it! Well, we're here if things clear up.

I'm happy to hear that you've recovered. The original RP had a lot of promise and garnered a lot of interest, and you disappearing was a heartbreaker. I find myself in a busier than usual season for RPing, since I'm currently in two extra RPs compared to my usual none, but I'll like to give this another shot. However, I would not be applying as Hoogarth if so. As much as I liked that idea, I'm already playing several fools in other RPs, and I've recently had a better idea cooking that I wanted to put into practice somewhere.

@Lugubrious

I look forward to it.

And yeah, it was always a heartbreaker for me, too. I'm really glad I'm giving it another shot.

@Tortoise'Alas, she's not coming back but GALAXOR is.

Galaxor Stoneclaw

Galaxor Stoneclaw

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:
_{Stoneclaw Giant, 78, 0.3 years in the Pilgrim's Caravan.}

Appearance:
_{Galaxor is smaller in comparison to most other Stoneclaw Giants, standing at 3 metres in height. His skin has a grey-ish, stone-like texture, and his hair is a rugged auburn. He bears tribal tattoos across his arms and chest, a mark of his clan. Galaxor's eyes are a piercing shade of grey, and he often wears rugged, grey-toned clothing adorned with furs and bone ornaments.}

History:
_{Galaxor hails from the remote Giant's Spire, a high mountainous region. He is a member of the Stoneheart Clan, known for their affinity with mining precious gems from the depths of the Giant's Spire mountains. The Stoneclaw tribe has always lived in relative isolation, focusing on their mining operations and the protection of their mountain home. Galaxor, however, felt a deep curiosity about the world beyond the Spire. He yearned to explore the world and gather knowledge that could potentially aid the Stoneclaw tribe as they considered opening their borders to foreign traders. With the blessings of his clan, he embarked on a journey with the Pilgrim's Caravan to achieve this goal.}

Personality:
_{Galaxor is a cheerful giant, known for his boisterous nature and kind heart. Despite his imposing size, he is jovial and friendly, often the life of the party among the caravan travelers. He has a deep connection to the earth and nature and values the sharing of stories and experiences. Galaxor's words are loud and lively, his actions adventurous, and he carries himself with a spirit of curiosity and exploration.}

Motivation:
_{Galaxor's motivation in joining the Pilgrim's Caravan is to explore the world, experience its wonders, and learn more about its people and cultures. He wants to bring back this knowledge to his Stoneclaw tribe, which is considering opening its borders to foreign traders. Galaxor's journey is driven by a deep desire for exploration and expanding the horizons of his people, ultimately aiding them in their transition to a more open and diverse society.}

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:
_{Galaxor's giant heritage grants him immense physical strength and resilience, making him a formidable protector. He’s also a born miner and knows his stones quite well. His size and strength make him an ideal guardian in perilous situations. However, his sheer size can sometimes be a hindrance in more delicate or confined spaces. Galaxor wields no traditional tools but relies on his natural abilities and, occasionally, a massive stone-tipped club as a last resort.}

What They Most Want:
_{To explore the world and bring back knowledge to the Stoneclaw tribe, helping them consider opening their borders to foreign traders and embracing the diversity of the outside world.}

If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:
_{Neutral Good}

Three Likes:
_{1. Drinking and celebrating with fellow travelers. 2. Stories of legendary heroes and guardian spirits. 3. Being the life of the party and embracing the joy of adventure.}

Glad you're feeling better, Tort!

@Timemaster

Approved! Drop him in the Char tab whenevers

The Old Man, Dreamwalker, and Occultist Extraordinaire!

Knossos Dreamwalker

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:

Human, 72, 17 years with the Pilgrim's Caravan

History:

Long History Warning (@_@)

Knossos is a man who was born to a small village family in the humble farming village of Aktí within the Kingdom of Ordos, a coastal nation with a large eastern coastline and access to the sea since seemingly time immemorial. A kingdom that had little access to the outside by land, save for a pair of crucial northern and western mountain passes respectively dubbed the "Chióni" (Greek for "ice", aka the 'northern pass' out from the nation's northern border) and the "Fiume" (Italian for "river", named such due to the great river flowing alongside the pass down a steep cliff as one passes through it), it had been in the middle of various issues or conflicts over the years as well as notably involved at sea. Yet even with having the sea so accessible, the growing of crops and rearing of livestock was still very much important. Indeed, this would be the task the family of young Knossos had taken up for many generations within the inner land region of the kingdom proper.

At birth Knossos's surname, as was his family's already, continued on in the same old local tradition of one's surname being taken from the work and job they had. However, this surname was not without nuance either. Farmers would add differentiating spellings or emphasis in their surname to separate themselves, or even use different words related to their occupation that by tradition made their heritage clear. Likewise, this made record keeping in the kingdom easier and more accessible, though it also brought about legal cases of 'who claimed what surname idea first' at times as well (inevitably). Yet with this all in mind it would make the 'easier' or more straightforward surnames that much harder to get ahold of...usually only held by nobility or very old family lines indeed. In the case of Knossos' family of birth, Faermer (a corruption of "farmer") was their particular surname and made them one of the oldest families to live in their area. A family that, indeed, had stuck about stubbornly as mules and long tilled the land and lived in the same spot in the central region of the kingdom since before the kingdom itself had even been born into existence.

So long had they been around they were among those in the kingdom's population who still possessed what is called an "Ancestor Stone", a practice from even pre-kingdom times that saw family members were buried around or underneath a great stone or boulder rolled down from the mountains to one's home. Such a stone marked one's place of settlement and the center of their property, and the effort of getting one was seen as a labor that showed respect to one's ancestors and the land itself. The larger it was, the more awe-inspiring and respectable it was seen to be. In that vein the Faermer Family was known more notably...having the largest one in their region of the kingdom, rumored to have been brought down by an ancestor granted strength by a spirit living within the boulder to help him on his way. From this, it is said the family was ever bound to this spirit that watched over the bodies of their dead and the land of their descendants. Further, upon Ancestor stones the names of the dead ancestors would be etched, and burials would continue to radiate out from the stone at the 'center' of this impromptu graveyard but would always remain pointed back at it...to point the dead back to those who came before so their spirits may join them in the afterlife.

Meanwhile, Knossos' first name was selected for the constellation he was born under. Whilst the first names of children would originate from anything ranging from figures in legend, to places they were born, to those who the family or parents wished to honor in their lives or pay respects to, and so forth, trends in this naming structure trended toward certain lines of things depending on one's place and status of birth. Farmers and Woodcutters and such would usually use more land and terrain-focused names, whilst those such as scholars and magic users might get names based on famous authors or constellations or other phenomena that sounded fancy and sophisticated to use as a name, etc. So in this vein Knossos' own name was something of an oddity, only chosen when a passing magic scholar was hosted by the family on a journey to the north and assisted in his birth when one of the local midwives or the village doctor would not be able to make it in time. So grateful were Knossos' parents that the traveling magic scholar was given the chance to name him out of respect. No small honor to be sure, no matter one's class! Thus the newborn was named for the constellation locals called 'Knossos', which looked like a king sitting on a throne, named for a great and wise king who once ruled the region in legend and solved a series of 'unsolvable riddles'. Indeed a great warlord of the Minotaur species, an army in tow, had arrived from across the sea and balked at the strength of the inhabitants of the region. The future king of the region then approached him boldly, despite others holding back in fear as the enemy raided the coast, said that, "what we have not in arms, we have yet in wisdom". Amused at this, the monster challenged this young man to a game. Three divine riddles, handed down by the gods of the warlord's homeland, would be given to the young man. None had ever solved them, but any who did would be granted great fortune and blessing on their bloodline forever for their wit and wisdom.

...Safe to say, the future king would win this contest and a divine revelation would come down upon the assembled group present at the contest. It was such that the warlord would withdraw from the region to attack another place out of respect for the gods of his own people. This future king would then become a greater leader, possessing almost supernatural wisdom and gifts in whatever he put his mind to. He would thus be named the "many-gifted", or "Knossos", and eventually gain enough influence and power to found a capital in the same place on the coast he'd won the contest with the warlord. It would be in this same place the very throne of his future palace, and the throne of all future kings that would rise even when the Kingdom of Ordos formed, would be reverently placed...and where the constellation of Knossos, said to be the king's immortalized spirit in the stars, watches over and grants wisdom to rulers of the land on the same day each year that the contest was won by the original Knossos. Even with the fact the Kingdom of Ordos' line was once invaders who blended in with locals, they would outright forcibly marry into them the last of the old king's bloodline and keep the tradition in order to assert authority as well as gain the seemingly palpable supernatural benefits gained from it (which is actually real tbh).

With all of this in mind, Knossos seemed poised merely to inherit the family farm and land in life. He had nothing going for him otherwise, and he felt a restlessness within him from a young age. Indeed his young mind would wander to things greater than himself and the old stories, and his parents were often sore with him or given myriad headaches simply trying to deal with him. In the end they would not need to worry, however, as the new village doctor to arrive at the village when Knossos was just five would begin to influence the boy in a different direction. Secretly a member of a cult dedicated to an alien being from a far-flung dimension/plane dubbed "iL'Thris the Deep Lord", whose home was a warped and corrupted ocean that spanned seemingly across infinity and whose true form was imperceptible to mortals and caused them to descend into madness. This cult's founder was the one mortal the Deep Lord had shown its true and aberrant form to, being curious about mortals after a one in a billion chance it would ever take notice of another dimension/plane at all, but the chain reaction resulting from this had led the maddened cult leader to form and cult and begin spreading it in secret...with maddened plans to one day overthrow the kingdom and summon a great monster to ravage the land. Said cult would influence Knossos until he was ten, after which he was taken away and assumed dead in the woods by his home as the cult prepared him more rigorously for adulthood in their ranks after faking his death. By the time he turned twenty one, he had learned all the magic of the cult that he could absorb (acquired from iL'Thris) and reached the upper ranks of the cult and then been infused with part of iL'Thris as other upper-ranks had (iL'Thris taking pity on their 'fragile mortal lives', thinking this was their request for help in that sense and it seeking to be merciful to help the seemingly 'good friends' of the one it had made contact with). All went according to plan, though, at least until the time when the long-foretold "Day of Summoning" came along.

The ritual kicked off, and disaster came, but a brave band of heroes that had formed and begun to rise amidst the pre-ritual period would take the fight to the cult before destroying them in a climactic final battle. Neighbors of the Kingdom of Ordos had even sent in reinforcements to help in order to avoid the spread of chaos deeper into their lands. Such was how terrifying and drastic the effect and impact of this all was. What would follow is the lead hero of the group of heroes marrying the kingdom's princess, who was about his age, and the Kingdom of Ordos rebuilding as it bloodily purged out the remnants of the cult. Among the scant few people, able to be counted on one hand at the very most, Knossos managed to survive and flee by land to a land far away. Somehow. Even he questioned harshly how many died and how his escape happened to work out despite the odds...yet in the end the reasons did not matter. He had lived and survived another day, but the cult had not.

But what of the enlightenment the cult had promised? What of the power, the truth, everything? Something like the cult, yes, it had to be true. But if this route to truth did not manifest for them, perhaps the next would? Yes! Another had to work! It had to. There was no other way, it was all he'd ever known. So he would have to find another route! Yes! Truth lied beyond the veil of any of this, it had to, and he would find it for the benefit of all this time!

Thus Knossos would desperately claw his way to a land far away from his own, that being of the desert Kingdom of Khamsin in the vast and expensive Khamsin Desert. An ancient land that had begun as a cradle of civilization on the far northwestern coast of its continent, placed right on the equator, it had been inhabited at first only by the ancient Iwiw (a jackal-like canine beastman race) who had built up the origina Kingdom of Uat there between the fertile Nilei and Ma'at rivers coming in from the northwestern coast to build up a civilization of their own. The Uat civilization lasted over three and a half thousand years before it would be broken and put under the yoke, though some such foreign-conquering rulers would maintain some of the land's practices and such to help maintain power, and the land saw civilization there going from fledgling kingdom in super ancient times to ancient empire to being subjugated by others and breaking free each a few times over each. Yet ultimately the Khamsin region itself would go about being shattered quite catastrophically into fragments and five centuries of disasterous chaos by a short-term but vast expanding empire from the far north (as punishment for involvement in a certain foreign war). It saw the region vastly depopulated *but not entirely mind) of its usual natives, scattered in diaspora due to disaster or slavery or the like, many sub-races go literally extinct, and then eventually a group who had controlled areas of land around the capital rising back up to found the new "Kingdom of Khasmin". This kingdom has persisted until now as a modest but notable kingdom by current times, a growing power with a great strength in its wealth and trade without a doubt. A kingdom known for its mix of ancient ways and modern innovations and so forth, and a melting pot of trade and harsh landscape and so forth, the Kingdom of Khasmin was a pale call of the original Kingdom of Uat in ways to be sure. Even so, it was more stable, advanced, and enduring than it had ever been before as a 'breadbasket' of past nations.

Yet it was within this new Kingdom of Khamsin proved to be where a new cult was found by Knossos, a group dedicating themselves to an Ancient Great Demon Lord named Ashtara who sought to take the region and transform it into a microcosm of where she had come from: A ravaged, demonic plane that to her and her followers would be transformed into a paradise. Or at least such a 'paradise' is what she promised. A paradise free of struggle, war, and turmoil. Nothing but the best pleasures of life and beyond, and for all eternity. Despite his former affiliation, he did join the cult and manage to rise the ranks to an extent once more as he pursued things with a new zeal. From Ashtara, he as well as other mid-rank and higher-up members would be granted to drink of some of her blood (and the higher-ups took in some of her essence to boot). Yet for how Knossos was concerned, only partaking of her blood infused him and others with a demonic dark magical power that allowed them to partake of certain magics. Conjuring/summoning demons, making use of curses, casting red energy attacks of tainted demonic magical energy, and conducting blood rituals would become the things he could do using this 'gift'. Yet it would be when this cult tried to rise up and cast their big 'summoning ritual' to bring forth their patron that things would eventually turn as they locals and a plucky band of mercenaries-turned-heroes would rise up and smite them back. Barely manifesting an arm of their patron to try to crush the heroes, Ashtara could see the writing on the wall and merely withdrew after it was clear the cult could not keep it up. The higher-ups who had absorbed her essence binding them to her in a way drinking her blood did not, would be sucked up by her alongside the dead bodies of deceased cult members as 'reparations' for her plan not succeeding. Those living members left behind, Knossos included, were pursued and killed and slain and put to the sword. Knossos was only thirty three years old at the time, and barely scraped through the desert with his life before collapsing at an oasis.

His strength in convictions was beginning to waver, but despite it all his desperation to find what he sought pushed him to travel far away once more as he sought another group. One more shot. Another route to truth, before he got old enough and died where he stood. He had to. By all the powers that were, he...he...if he didn't, then what would all of this be worth? The deaths, all in vain? Sacrifices, all falling on empty ears? No. No, he could not let it be. And thus he traveled to find the final group he'd end up joining.

In a land far in the northern hemisphere, farther north than he'd ever been in his life before, he came across a group seeking the power of an ancient civilization called the Vilkyn. Once a people who in rather ancient times owned the territory the group has set up in, in fact having originated from there in days long gone, the Vilkyn race and civilization had collapsed over a series of centuries and disasters and such that had brought them down into extinction. Yet according to some of their old records, something of great value lied where their capital had once been. Formulae to create unique crystalized mana gems, a unique creation differing from 'crytalized mana' or the like, and devices as well as magically-wrought constructs which were made to be powered and even partly shaped by these magical power sources...among which was one meant to revive the race from the dead that hadn't been able to be activated in time during the capital's fall over two thousand years ago. The group having been funded by a wealthy noble of a nearby kingdom, one who sought this power to use it for himself, they plucked away at things as Knossos joined on at first as a simple 'expert in obscure magical arts'. Then as the group became more obsessed and cultic, driven by a desire for power and made promises by the noble of becoming immortal, Knossos would see himself more and more involved as he sought to study the Vilkyn magical arts and records. He would gain the magical knowledge the group sought, at least, before eventually the group was caught by the kingdom the noble came from as the noble himself was outed by some means. The group lost all funding, an attempted half-activation of the great Vilkyn device saw a botched raising of undead that now inhabit the Vilkyn ruins and surrounding wastes there, those who were in the same kingdom as the noble were killed, and Knossos barely escaped with his life by braving the undead and making his way out in a different direction than most took.

...Even so, he could collapse on the ground of a vast northern forest to the southwest of where the group had been set up at the old Vilkyn capital's ruins. An old path merchants on rare occasion took was right before him, and yet his strength gave out seeking to make it onto the road itself. Collapsed in a bush next to it, his vision blurred, his wounds continued to worsen, and he would pass out expecting to finally die. His resolve to find 'truth' in the only way he'd known how, so indoctrinated into it he had become blind, would too finally break as his body did. Truth? He sought truth, but this path was not it. This way was not the one. And what had he done? Run about seeking all of this like a fool for decades of life? He, a fifty-four year old, was going to die here. He would not see the power of the Deep Lord transform the world into a utopia as the first cult had promised. He would not see a glorious paradise form as the second cult had promised. He would not see power and riches and glory in mortality as promised by the third and final cult he'd joined. Nothing. And so as he felt himself drift, the aging man would scoff at himself and allow himself to drift away.

But this was not to be his fate, it seemed.

Waking up in a shrine to the god Drothur (God of Travelers, Merchants, Wanderers, Transients, Homeless, and Foreigners), Knossos found himself cheating death once more. At least, this time it was so without his own choice in the matter. A passing cleric of Drothur had found him, the clothes on his back, and his magical satchel containing all his things, and brought them to the shrine. Telling the confused and utterly depressed man they had been guided by a dream to take that road, in particular even seeing the location they had found Knossos in, the cleric said that the had felt the hand of their patron deity upon him. But why? Knossos would wonder this and ask as he was forced to heal up for some time, talking about everything to the cleric as they tended to him personally, but wasn't handed over to anyone else in the meantime as Drothur's will was seemingly to help him recover. The same cleric who had helped him would leave, returning to travel as was their calling, but would leave him with a parting message when he asked one last time the question that burned so brightly in his mind: "Why?" "Why save me? Why care for me despite all the things I've done?". The cleric merely responded, with a smile, that:

"My lord Drothur saw fit to save you, even one who seems to have long lost his way in life and done much in pursuit of many self-blinding and destructive paths. Most do not survive this sort of life, among those who have been in such a place as yourself that is. And yet you have come to see your own folly. The veil of ignorance has come up from your eyes, and this is a most precious gift indeed.

I believe...you are being given a chance. A great rebirth of purpose. An opportunity to take a new path, to pave a new road, now that you have been able to realize what so few like yourself have ever been able to.

Eh? As for my own personal reasons? Heh. I would not dare leave a lost wayfarer such as yourself to die in the wilderness...never again. I have made my own mistakes in the past, but I seek them not ever again.

So for forth, oh man named Knossos! Oh walker of dreams long broken! Go with my lord's blessing upon you, and see your new path to its very end without regrets! I shall see you there at the very end, my friend."

And so the cleric left.

Once a year had passed since Knossos having been brought to recover at the shrine, he would remove himself from the shrine and local area. Indeed, he would find himself joining the Pilgrim's Caravan as it was preparing to leave the location around where he'd been cared for throughout the prior year. Claiming to be a magical scholar of sorts, he would take his occult expertise and magic and skills and set about to make the world a better place in any way he could. He would also seek to gather knowledge along the way to this end. Ultimately on the road, and for the next fifteen years, Knossos would peddle his knowledge to assist others as an 'occult expert'. He would care for those dealing with haunted places or cursed items. He would be hired by nobles to investigate ruins, examine eclectic and rather niche 'magic items' for them, or try to assist with afflictions and issues caused by non-standard magical sources or origins. Such was his purpose. He would even buy up cursed items or such to 'contain' them safely, and for that he gained some reputation of a good but also wary sort. He even assisted areas with more 'zealous' beliefs investigate certain matters relating to his expertise and skills, if only to work with the law and try to form an amicable relationship with such groups to avoid trouble on his part. At the same time, however, it isn't as if he is without potential to get into trouble due to what he is skilled in dealing with. His skills have been of use to the Pilgrim's Caravan itself at times as well, making him a staple of the last decade and a half in regards to certain matters if nothing else, and yet to date he knows the danger never goes away. The next plot, the next oddity, the next obscure magical issue, the next place that could potentially be where he runs into his past again, whatever it may be...

...but he will see his new chosen path to the end, no matter what!

Personality:

An older man usually of a calm, jovial, or relaxed type of mentality and way he holds himself. Even so, he inherently possesses a sober patience and calm in or outside of his work as well. He is generally well-spoken, and is well-read to a sometimes troubling extent when it comes to his area of expertise, but one won't find him being usually unfriendly to others unless they seriously manage to tap into his anger r get him to really not like them to a notable enough extent. Knossos is very meticulous about his work and frankly passionate and serious about it to boot when it comes down to it. Attempting to snatch anything of his is something he will more than sternly lecture someone else on, at the very least, though he truly loathes those who fumble about with the occult or such things with no regards for their lives or others’. Outside of his work, one can find him willing to share a hot meal or drink with others and even have a laugh and talk and such...or a shoulder to rest on if they need to unload something painful or so forth onto someone else. At his heart children do have a soft spot with him as well, due to what happened to him in his own childhood (or lack thereof to an extent due to what happened in his own childhood), and at his heart he truly is a kind man who seeks to do the best he can in regards to himself and others with nothing but sincerity. Yet it is also that same sincerity that sees his anger and other negative emotions being that much more hot, poignant, and fierce whenever they manage to peek out from behind the veil of his usual demeanor.

Whilst he is not of the mind that he knows everything, he’ll amidst that as bluntly as possible with a laugh if asked, he is still a very much knowledgeable man whose talents go as deep as the years of his life have gone on long.

"What is better? To be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

-Paarthunax, Skyim (2011) ((And this is a quote that IC would be something Knossos would actually think to say to be honest)

Motivation:

To assist others regarding matters of the occult.....in a sense, be a ‘guiding light’ to help them understand or deal with or even avoid danger from such things. De-cursing items, storing away dangerous occult objects/relics, advising or counseling people on how to deal with occult matters, keeping tomes of occult knowledge and scrolls of otherworldly wisdom away from others by taking them himself, etc. Admittedly he does charge for his services, mostly so he can afford to get supplies and materials for his work along the way, though based on the client he has been known to adjust his running prices at certain times based on what the client can actually afford to pay him in the first place.

Likewise in this main goal he gets to travel and see the world, something he’s come to enjoy raiding along with the Caravan over the last decade and a half. Perhaps his goal is also evidence of seeking redemption of some kind for the years of woes and miseries he created or participated in prior, to atone for his once-evil life by seeking to do good with what he knows and can do, though he’d deny such a thing if asked about it or it was implied toward him or such.

Skills/Strengths:

-Occult Expertise (Occult Magic/Occult Knowledge): To be more specific about this area, his whole thing here and in general runs on the premise that even in a world of fantasy and magic and monsters and so forth existing there are ‘outliers’ even within the realm of magic itself. Obscure or unique magical arts/practices, forbidden or frankly taboo spells that were spells developed or discovered, magics tied to beings from abnormal otherworlds mages don't usually or haven't made contact with as a standard practice, socially/culturally unacceptable magical practices/arts, etc, along those lines. This realm of things is where Knossos’ expertise falls into the lines of, though even he admits he doesn’t know everything. How could he? He is just one man. What he does know has come from decades of experience and personal study, both during his cult-joining days and since then afterward, and his travels with the Pilgrim’s Caravan has assisted him in this by exposing him to new places and things to study and acquire and so forth along the way.

In terms of applications, his capabilities are more varied than they are specific. He can summon and command tentacled or oceanic-like beings from the space iL'Thris comes from, as well as summon and command demons from wherever Lady Ashtara came from. He can conjure unique magical/twisted alien waters from an alternate dimension to use to attack others, doing so in things like water jets and barriers and so forth, and unleash/conjure unusual black demonic fire that it would take magical means (or a lot more buckets of water than should be required normally for a fire) to put out. He is further steeped in curses and the mechanics of them and things such as cursed objects/items, and has knowledge of some tribal or obtuse/obscure/fringe magics from across the area’s he’s traveled through or learned from in the last one and a half decades.

In terms of outright skill and experience and self-discipline he's akin to a veteran old wizard working up in a tower or at some prestigious magical school somewhere in the world, but this is also his one greatest strengths to boot.

-Magic-Infused Body: His body has aged outwardly to the point he looks to be an old man in his 60s before stopping, but internally the quality of his body is still easily at the level of a prime 20-to-30-something year old due to what it has been infused with. He, in other words, isn't as old inside as he is outside. His mind is still rather sharp, his body can handle the exertion, and so forth that a human in their 20-to-30-something prime could without a doubt. That and some minor regeneration capabilities that allow him to heal from a wider range of things than normally is possible and slightly increases his passive natural healing rate to boot.

His durability isn't beyond that of a normal human being, he isn't Wolverine in terms of healing speed or anything ridiculous like that (heck no), and so forth. But whilst his lifespan will be inevitably extended by an unknown amount of time, an extent even he has no idea of the length of, he will eventually in the longer term die of old age with everything just giving out due to the raw amount of time that has passed. Even then it isn't 'eternal youth' that he has either...really just slowed aging in regards to the quality of his body (but not his aesthetic appearance).

-General Survival Skills: Cooking, cleaning, foraging, handling weather, making a fire, creating basic or functioning shelter, fishing, and similar things are array of generalist survival skills he’s refined from necessity over the decades and years before and even during his caravan years. He’s a very well-seasoned hand in this regard without a doubt.

Weaknesses:

-He has no armor to speak of, and his physical capabilities are still very much human. He is just as mortal as anyone else to boot when it comes to being able to be killed.

-No weapons skills to speak of. Best he could use is maybe his knife, but eve then that is just for survival and travel and such general-use purposes.

-Whilst some of his magical capabilities and occult knowledge do overlap with actual standard magical practices or categorizations, don't expect him to know standard magic stuff and standard-type spells and so forth. His knowledge is nuanced and eclectic and frankly niche in nature, so whilst some overlap in how things are categorized and work can occur he is no scholastic wizard who got a proper magical education from some magic university or so forth. He can probably identify some things from being on the road for so long, and doing his own research, but he's no wizard. He's just your friendly caravan-traveling occult expert and magic user.

-Removing his Magic Ring. Knossos' body was fused with part of an alien being and outright demonic power it now produces and can tap into. To any sort of zealous paladin, trained mage trying to detect magical sources, and the like, he stands out like a gigantic bonfire being lit up in the middle of total darkness. It is impossible not to notice him, as in being among the sorest of sore thumbs in terms of standing out in this way.

To this end, he commissioned and purchased said Magical Ring (see "Tools") that hides his magical presence/energy from detection by others. Second to the magical bag he carries his things in, it is the second most expensive item he openly wears or carries on himself. Despite obsessively wearing it all the time on his right hand, no matter what he is doing or in the middle of, it also isn't a perfect thing. High-tier, high-level, and top-tier types of magical detections spells or magics can see past his protection and pick up on him. Likewise, again, if one manages to get the ring off of him that is not good news either for him.

Of course in some areas, this ring might not be needed if no one can detect magic there. But especially in major cities or capitals or areas with magical schooling he has to keep this ring on.

-Due to the above weakness, he also has an inherent weakness to specifically holy magic(s). Healing magic of a holy sort still works on him, he isn't some full demonic being or so forth, but it leaves him feeling odd and lightheaded as an end result. Meanwhile offensive holy magic does hurt him extra to a distinctly noticeable extent. Barriers of holy magic that protect from monsters or demons or such, etc, do not keep him out since he's not fully anything of the sort. On the other hand such things, depending on potency, do make him anywhere from uncomfortable to feeling a sense of passively-throbbing pain or potentially worse depending.

Tools:

-Traveling/Professional Work Clothes (see the appearance picture at the top of his app)

-Water Skin (not seen in picture but he wears it around normally)

-Knife (for cutting rations and food and such, or whittling, or whatever general use thing it could be used for)

-Magical Ring (Hides the magical energies and such within him from being noticed by magical detection methods. This works all the way up to even a moderately strong sort of magical detection capability at most.)

-A Bag of Holding expy type object, one he has had enchanted and reinforced and put more money into than anything else he wears or the like. It stands out like a sore thumb with him, made to last beyond a lifetime and then some, but does look about as well-traveled with all the work done to it. He can withdraw whatever he wishes out of the bag, but if damaged badly enough he has to get it repaired to access his things again. At the same time, between enchantments and runes and materials used to reinforce and augment it, this magical bag can be returned to his person or even into his hands with a thought and is harder to break than most things in the world. This is because he has put a lot of money into it over the years from his mercantile pursuits, as well as some back when he was in cults due to having had this bag as far back as then when he bought it for himself after fleeing the destruction of the first cult he was in.

It took all he had to get the back itself back then, in its original condition no less, but since then it has been a literal staple he even keeps on his person at all times even when bathing and sleeping and otherwise...maybe he's a tad too careful about the thing actually. He is touchy about this thing, and the investment he's made into it alone is, ah, not exactly normal for a person to do.

With this it contains: Food rations, regular clothing, a backup water skin, myriad occult-related magical tomes/scolls, various mundane books related to both the occult and other subjects, clothing from when he was in those three cults in the past, magically-contained cursed items or other such dangerous objects, and all of his money.

Other:

-His surname, "Dreamwalker", was self-appointed and has stuck since. Inspired by the clerics parting words to him and his own reflection back on his own life. A poetic touch, as it were, which also makes him sound rther fancy and well-versed in what he knows (which he is well-versed in regardless of name anywho).

-NOTE: As far as the caravan knows at most, he's a roaming magical scholar who got experience on the road over many decades and is specialized in the occult. Was interested in such magic, and left his hometown to pursue his interest on the road. Wants to help people. Never said where he comes from, told his life story, etc.

-Yes, Knossos' homeland is based in some 'rough' part on Italy/Greece/the Mediterranean in terms of naming and such. No, I have not worked this all out. No, as of submitting Knossos' app I cannot say more than that at the moment.

-His height is 5'10". Height for the height chart, stats for the stat throne. Or something. Idk I am ripping a 40k meme quote here. XD

@Crusader Lord

As approved as before, of course. He's a really good character: someone who has some dark deeds in his past and has come out of them, but not unscathed.

As for how Athulwin will feel about him...

@Tortoise I get the feeling our characters have some kind of dynamic or enmity

@Crusader Lord

"The stars spoke to me the night I first met him. Their words were unclear, as always they are, being such a confusing hum in my skull, but there was one phrase that I heard as clear as a bell: 'Watch, O Cursed One' the stars said to me, 'for today darkness again reaches out its hand towards you. Something old and strange comes your way, older and stranger even than our own pale light, and dripping blackly wicked.'

I had been in the caravan only a few days then, and I knew not all the characters yet, and so it was that night that I was introduced to Dreamwalker. Sitting by a camp fire, he reached his old hand out to shake mine, and the moment our palms touched I felt a chill. Why, I cannot explain. There was a sharpness in his eyes, something that warns of dark knowledge and eldritch power, and it reminded me far too much of the eyes of Alder. When he told me -in such a happy, calm sort of way- that he was our occult expert, I knew that I had met the darkness the stars had warned me of.

I was wrong.

Six years hence have passed, and many more times I have shared a fire or a meal with the Dreamwalker, and one thing has become clear: though a shadow follows him, the shadow is not him. I have not asked him about it. I do not wish to ask him about it. But I feel now that there is something evil swirling about him, something 'old and strange' that has not yet let him go, but yet the man himself is not the evil. I have seen him help others, try to steer them away from the darkest forces of occultism. I have seen him warn young practitioners of the dangers they are walking into. I have watched him struggle to use his bad knowledge to some good ends.

I have since then become the Caravan's Navigator, a position of some repute. And- against my better instincts- I have not tried to have him removed from the Caravan. I believe, however odd it may seem, that he is at heart a gentle man, though something black and demonic knows his name. Nonetheless, I watch him. Closely. I am sure he knows this. And I hope he knows another thing also: that if he ever does use his powers towards an evil ends, if ever again this old warlock gives into the true darkness of his magics, I will stand ready with Moiling Chain and Breath of Fire to whip or to burn that foul madness back out of him."

-A page from the journal of Athulwin of Queensrock, describing his views on Knossos Dreamwalker

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Jason

Jason Miller

Human, 24, Less than a year:

Appearance:
<sub>Jason is tall and lean, standing at exactly six feet tall. He does a lot of time doing physical labor on his family’s farm, and while he is not as big as his dad is, he still has a slender build with defined muscles that he is proud to show off. He spends plenty of time out in the sun, and thus has a tanned skin complexion. He has a boyish face, though he still possesses a firm jaw. He has a small nose, and large, expressive almond shaped eyes, which are a bright electric blue color. He has short dirty blonde hair which is always a mess, and frankly he likes it that way.

He dresses fairly simply. His family isn’t rich, so they don’t have nice clothes. Besides, fancy outfits are impractical for farmers anyway. To be honest, he spends most of his time shirtless. He’s seen books with pictures of how mages dress, and adapted the style to suit his own tastes. He wears a sleeveless light blue hooded cloak. He leaves it open all the time revealing his chest and abs. As bottoms he wears a pair of matching blue pants, that are held up by a beige belt. As footwear he wears a pair of sturdy beige boots that are comfortable to walk around and work in.</sub>

History:
<sub>Jason was born into an average family. The family worked on a farm. His father did all the physical labor that running a farm involves, his mother sold the stuff they produced on the farm at the market as well as ran the home, and Jason and his twin brother, William were expected to help out around the farm. They lived a fairly average life. Jason and his twin brother were very close. The two played together all the time, and got along great. They rarely fought, and when they did have a disagreement, they made up fairly quickly. Jason’s parents hated magic. They believed that relying on a dangerous and unpredictable force could lead to nothing but trouble. For a while, the brothers shared those feelings.

One day, while the boys were playing one day, away from the eyes of their parents. In their playing, William got hurt. He tried diving into a lake, and ended up cutting himself on a rock. Jason panicked. His brother was hurt, he had no idea how to make him not hurt anymore, and more importantly he didn’t want to have to tell his parents that his sibling got hurt on his watch. Fortunately for them, an older gentleman happened to be passing through. He saw what happened, and helped out. The man was a doctor. He used mysterious magic and his own medical knowledge to fix the boy right up. After that, the boy’s opinions on magic changed.

Life continued on after that, but now something was different. Now Jason was fascinated with magic. It had saved his brother, and now he was curious about what other things it could do. Whenever he had free time away from doing farm chores, Jason did all he could to learn about magic. He read every book on the subject he could get his hands on, and at night would practice spells. He wanted to learn the mysterious magic that man used, but at some point discovered he had more of an affinity for lightning magic, and soon changed course. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this power, but it was still cool all the same.

At some point, William left to go on his own journey. He wanted to become a knight, and help out his country. Jason stayed behind to help out on the farm. For a while the brothers exchanged letters. Then, the communication stopped. Now, Jason is going on an adventure to find out what happened to his brother, and possibly learn more about magic in the process.</sub>

Personality:
<sub>Jason is a farmer. He is often seen selling stuff at the local market, and does plenty of work on his family’s farm. He actually doesn’t hate farm work. It’s exhausting work yes, but at the end of the day there is nothing more satisfying than a job well done.

Jason has a fascination with magic. He greatly appreciates good displays of magical power. It started as a curiosity about the subject. Ever since the disappearance of his brother, grew into a desire to gain power for his own needs.

Jason is brave, daring, and extremely determined. He can be very impatient, wanting to get stuff done as soon as possible. As such, he will often charge straight into danger, and often prefers to zap first and ask questions later. As such, he can be reckless and get himself into danger if he thinks he is right. Jason is also very blunt. He says exactly what he thinks no matter who he hurts. He lacks patience for people he deems to be slow.

Jason can be very stubborn, and it’s difficult to get him to admit when he’s wrong about something. He can also be hostile to people who have different opinions than him. He doesn’t like to accept help for things he knows he can do on his own. He’s confident in his own skills, and believes he can handle his own problems himself. The upside to this though, he doesn’t give up easily when things get hard. He also has no problems giving help to others when they need it.</sub>

Motivation:
_{3 things. To find out what happened to his brother, Learn more about magic, and find his own adventure.}

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:
<sub>Lightning Magic: Jason has an affinity for Lightning magic. He can summon lightning for various purposes. Including shooting electricity out of his hands, and delivering lightning punches. That’s pretty much the extent of his magic.

Farmer Skills: Jason is familar with all the ins and outs of running a farm. Planting and tending to crops, raising livestock, etc.

Cooking: Jason has learned how to prepare the food he grows on the farm.

Hoe: When magic doesn’t work, Jason whacks enemies with his trusty farming hoe. Not as potent as an actual weapon, but it does hurt!</sub>

@Crimson Flame

Approved. I will be using him as an opportunity to make many lightning puns, so don't be shocked

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Tagging those who had an approved character in the first iteration.

Birch "Cricket" Oakenstorm (@OddnessApproved)
Jason Miller (@Crimson Flame)
Myra (@lotusthevoid)
Ilyana the Half-Human (@Expendable)
Jormon Bjarg (@Sanity43217)
Scrapheap Metalmaster (@XoXKieroBombXoX)
Mergoux (@Overlord Thraka)
Kurama (@Timemaster)

And, because I seem to write nothing without them, I'm of course tagging:

@Enigmatik
@Lady Lascivious
@Crusader Lord

@Tortoise

Oh snap, I forgot a few! More tags of those with already approved characters:

@MagusDream@Lugubrious@Letter Bee@astrifer0us@TruthHurts22@DracoLunaris

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Hi Tort! How goes things, oh tortly one?

@Crusader Lord

Things go very well!

@TortoiseYou're BACK! <3

@Timemaster

Indeedingtons, yes yes! Is ole Kurama making a return as well?

@Tortoise - glad you're feeling better.

Ilyana the Half-Human

Ilyana the Half-Human

Ilyana

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:
Half-elf, 29, 2 months

Appearance:
Ilyana is below average height for a half-elf, standing at 5' 3" with short-cropped sandy blonde hair and dark tanned skin from her time at sea. She's thin and wiry, but looks youthful, so sometimes mistaken for a boy. One cannot help but notice the pink scar that divides her left eyebrow and travels down on an inward slope to her cheek. The artificial eye she wears on the left has an amber iris that contrasts with her natural jade green right iris. She has an eye patch she wears to hide the socket when its out.

One looking closer can see signs of other scars, and perhaps a peep at her skull tattoo on her chest neatly transected by another scar running from her right shoulder to her left hip. Few would ever see what looks like a second naval just under the ribs is actually a scar from a puncture wound, but anyone who rubs her back may feel the raised ridges of the scars from her flogging. Her right palm has an "L" branded there for "Leshere (thief)".

History

Born on the 13th of Uktar in a brothel, where her mother took shelter. Unfortunately she died shortly afterward, so nothing is known of her human father. She was raised by the the staff of her Aunt Pol and Uncle Glyberos' house, largely ignored by the family, including their eldest daughter Sylna and their youngest son Keras.

Many visitors assumed the young girl was a child of one of the staff, as she would be frequently seen doing various servant chores. But when Marquis Muleho, friend to the judge and frequent visitor, discovered she was their neice, her Aunt and Uncle, deeply embarrassed, moved her to a private room and forbade her from doing any more domestic work. They also hired a private tutor to address her neglected education.

Marquis Muleho showed up one day with a spell book that he brought for Aunt Pol to examine, leaving it in the library. Later, when it was discovered missing, her uncle, his face burning red, went to her room first and found the burned out cover in her fireplace. Keras, who'd been checking her chest of drawers, turned around and presented the jewels that had adorned the cover. Glyberos flogged her until she confessed to taking the spell book (she hadn't), then used his authority as a judge to have her branded and imprisoned for five years.

It was in prison that she learned how to be a thief, a necessary skill to survive in that place. During her third year, diseased ravaged the prison and she spent long hours tending to both guards and prisoners before finally succumbing to illness herself. While she couldn't say for sure, there were times afterward that guards and the other inmates gave her some grudging respect and the ocassional blind eye.

On her release, now fully an adult, she was immediately pressganged into the Royal Navy as a sailor, handed over to the crew of galleon The Golden Falcon. The next four years were spent in hard labor. Crew were not permitted ashore except in the company of an officer, who was authorized to execute them on the spot should they attempt to desert.

Her five years in prison had already inured her to the lack of privacy under close quarters. When Ilyana slung her hammock, it was in the middle of the group, rather than on the edges. She also realized that the thief mark on her palm would make others reluctant to trust her, while others would use it as an excuse to rob her blind by claiming she stole their things. Ilyana therefore kept most of her money on the ship's books, avoided gambling, taking care to mark her few possessions and to keep careful receipts with witness signatures.

In her fourth year at sea, the Golden Falcon was one of a squadron of ships whose job was to blockade the harbor entrance to contain the ships of the Pretender. Under cover of darkness, the enemy launched some of their ships with skeleton crews to go out with the evening tide, creeping up unaware on the blockading ships before setting them alight before escaping as the fireships, drawn out by the tide, smashed into the blockading ships. In the confusion, the Pretender and the remainder of his fleet made their escape. Ilyana was the only survivor from the Golden Falcon.

Desperate to pull some sign of victory from this disaster, Ilyana was hailed as a hero for her survival - but instead of being released from service, her wounds were treated and she was transferred aboard the galleon The West Wind. Because of her 'lucky' status, she was given the 'honor' of leading the boarding crews - which led to the loss of her left eye in battle. It was the first of many battle scars she'd earn aboard the West Wind.

An arrow wound messed up her stomach - and wasn't helped much by the diluted healing potions they'd been supplied with, which made her very queasy and sick all over the place at the least sign of stress. They finally decided to discharge her from service in the Royal Navy, giving her a handful of medals, her silvered cutlass and dagger, the scarred leather cuirass she'd wear in battle, and all of her back pay on the books.

Personality:
Ilyana is always wary and reserved, keeping a weather eye not just on the horizon but the other pilgrims as well. In an open room, she prefers to have her back in a corner. A bit of a loner, she can be quick to anger, especially if pressed. Her speech is often blunt and profane, much to the dismay of others.

She works hard at being self-reliant - at sea, it's hard to find something left ashore. She's always ready to lend a hand, but Ilyana avoids seeking help from others. Many assume it's her pride holding her back, but really it's to avoid debts as not everyone seeks repayment in coin. She knows well the reputation that half-human girls have among her people.

Ilyana is also aware what people will say about a known thief in their midst, so she keeps a careful inventory on her ledgers, recording each sale or purchase to fight any claims on her purse or property.

Motivation:
Finally free, she decided to join the pilgrimage, since that would mean crossing over wide stretches of dry land that didn't pitch and roll from the sea and the wind, and allow her to see something other than a lot of water from horizon to horizon.

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:

Skills

Animal Handling - good with donkeys, ponies, horses.
Archer - average skill with shooting a bow and arrow. Works best with a bow and arrows.
First aid - experienced in the basic treatment of wounds and illness. Needs bandages and medicinal herbs.
Lockpicking - some experience in the opening of locks without using a key. Usually reqires lockpicks, although some tools can be improvised on the scene.
Navigation - sufficient ability to navigate using a map, compass, and/or sextant to get to their destination. Maps, compass, sextant required.
Rigger - Experienced with ropes, knots, blocks and tackle, and rigging. Requires rope, fid, sail twine, pully blocks, serving mallets, etc.
Sailing - experienced in the basics of sailing. Requires a boat with sails.
Sailmaking - skilled in the crafting of sails and other articles of canvas work. Requires canvas, sail twine, needles, and rope.
Swimming - allows them to cross bodies of water.
Swordswoman - above average skill with her cutlass, especially in close quarters. Requires a bladed weapon.

Strengths
- Right eye can see in the dark like it was dim light
- Right eye can see in dim light like it was bright daylight
- Speaks Elvish middle-tongue, thieves' cant, a few human languages.
- long lifespan (just shy of two centuries)

Weaknesses
- Trust issues
- Bears a thief mark
- blind in one eye when not wearing her prosthesis
- Visibly scarred
- Mixed race with reputation of promiscuity (they grow up faster than elves, so many think they're older than they are)
- Underdeveloped body

tools

Vrudius' Eye

An artificial eye that carries an enchantment that allows the wearer to see through it as if it was their own natural eye. Does not work in mana-depleted zones.

Ditty Bag

a canvas bag with a wooden bottom and several interior pockets that hold various rigger tools - sewing palm, needles in a needle case, sail twine, serving mallet, fids, wood rasp, metal file, whetstone, various hanks of cords, bundles of oakum, screw eye auger, small hatchet. This also holds her lockpicks, a pouch of tobacco, and a smoking pipe.

Donkey & cart

A gray donkey harnessed to a small cart carrying her few possessions for the trip. Barrels of water, grain, & flour. A chest containing cooking gear, mess gear, lantern, a few flasks of oil, a small tea chest, and few spices. A sea chest holding spare clothes, bedroll, 50' of rope, hammock, some ledgers, a wooden comb, a lockbox with some gold and silver, and a few well-wrapped bottles of her medicine. A couple small casks of rum. A canvas tarp to cover it all while traveling. This also holds her bow, quiver of arrows and her armor while traveling.

Pen Holder

a bronze stem that unscrews at one end to reveal a dipping pen inside, while a small covered pot on the opposite end has a length of silk wadded inside, soaked in black ink so that it will not spill. It can be tucked into a pocket in the interior of her jerkin or slipped onto the belt.

Bosun's Pipe

A whistle that makes a shrill sound when blown, can be heard over high winds and far distances. A trained user can make a variety of sounds with one.

Healers kit

leather belt pouch holding two rolled bandages, two bundles of dried herbs to use as a poultice, other medicinal herbs.

-----
Optional Details

What They Most Want:
Freedom

If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:
Chaotic Good

Three Likes:

• A sharp blade
• Rum
• A good smoke

Three Dislikes:

• A dull blade
• Storms
• Hardtack

Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:
Their mind. Heart's been betrayed too often

Worst Fear:
Imprisonment

Favorite Color:
Sky blue

Most Like The Animal:
A fox

Favorite Time of Day:
Daybreak and the promise of a new day, the sun shining warm on her face.

How They Dress

• Brown tricorne hat
• Red bandana covering her hair
• Cream-colored peasant's shirt
• white bandana tied loosely around her neck
• Lined Brown leather jerkin with her medals stitched on the left breast, a dolphin embroyered in aquamarine beads on the right breast.
• Brown breeches
• Green Hose
• Brown leather boots with the tops folded down
• Wide brown leather belt
• [Nested]
  
  • knife with a broken tip (keeps from punching holes in sails and officers) in a leather sheath
  • Fid in sheath
  • Belaying pin tucked into belt
  • Belt pouch with some coins, flint, small pouch of pipe tobacco.
  • Flask containing medicine for her stomach
  • Cutlass with a silvered blade and scabbard.
• knotted lanyard that holds a bosun's pipe
• Leather cuirass
• Leather Bracers

Favorite Season:
Summer

What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers They Worship (If Any):
Deep Sashelas - an Elvish god of the oceans who likes to tinker and create new creatures, somewhat flighty. One hears tales about him having affairs with mermaids and land dwellers. Popular deity among Elvish sailors. His symbol is of a dolphin.

I may want to bring in a second character, a wandering priest who's also a cobbler (a not uncommon secondary occupation for this sect)

@Expendable

Approved, as before! It'll be interesting to have such a sailor on our land journey.

And of course, a second character would be welcome- I always like wandering priests and holy men. My own character has a little bit of that vibe himself.

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

At this point, I do not care if this RP continues or not. I'm hoping that Tortoise is doing alright. After medical and health issues, Tortoise just disappeared and that has been a reoccurring concern in the back of my mind.

@OddnessApproved

I really appreciate that.

As Lady mentioned, I resurface after some time. Although I will be frank with you: this most recent disappearance was indeed because of my health issues. We got it mostly figured out, and I'm recovering now- enough to do stuff like this again.

In fact, everyone: I've restarted the RP. If anyone from here wants to try again, all your characters are pre-approved.