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Zeroth
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Ambition/Dream: (What are their long term hopes? What do they strive to achieve before their time is over? Why?)
Personality Traits:
Childhood: (Backstory stuff)
Adolescence/Training: (Backstory Stuff)
Adulthood/After Completing Training:
Notable Family: (Only list family members if they’re important to your character’s story and you intend to have their family brought up in campaign more than side comments. Please list your relationship to them.)
Notable Figures: (Non-family members with the same restrictions as above. Please list your relationship with them.)
Character Themes: (Abstract ideas that represent your character in some way or another. I.e. Light, Darkness, Freedom, Family, etc. Both visual elements and gameplay wise.)
Character Tragedy: (What torments your character or keeps them awake at night? Some problem with themselves or regret they have that they hope to overcome or correct for example.)
Character Flaws: (Everyone has them, most don’t recognize them in themselves.)
Hobbies: (There’s bound to be downtime where your character will have no active tasks, you’ll need to know what they keep themselves busy with. This should add to how you play your character, and make for potential roleplay moments during downtime.)
Appearance: (Can be combined with Inspirational Imagery)
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Duthguy Someone who can't spell Dutchguy

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Name: Maria “Mary” T’ashar
Race: Halfling (Female)
Text Colour: f49ac2 / Pink
Special Skill: Seamstress.

Ambition/Dream: Before? To make the most beautiful garments, the most comfortable garments, to see her children grow into marvellous people and spend her days with her love. Now? She's a shell of her former self wanting to live a simple, quiet life without any fuss and die peacefully.

Personality Traits: Overall she is quiet and reserved, some would even say secretive, sometimes even about mundane things. Her voice holds a wounded rasp and rarely rises into a shout. But despite her overall timid demeanour, holding herself tightly together, there is a cast iron will glittering behind her eyes leaving her unable to back down from what she believes is right and won't be easily swayed from her decisions.

Childhood: Born in the depths of winter, within the depths of the Carnatia Countryside, within a simple household, Maria T’ashar was promptly taken up a small ladder as per age old folklore to guarantee success in her life. Much to her parents horror however she was a sickly child for much of her life; each year a horrid cough would rack her body, the spring would bring horrid sneezing fits, even the mildest summer brought about fainting spells, and autumn did nothing but herald the arrival of her winter illness. Thankfully as she grew older these ills would become less and less severe but the whole ordeal has left its marks upon her.

Even so, the days and sometimes weeks she was bed bound were a boring and tiring existence for a child and doubly so for a teenager. While Her parents and sister spent what time they could with her she had to find some way to entertain herself. Like many girls in the village she was trained to spin yarn and her long fingers allowed her to become very skilled at it, even rivalling many of the village women at times. From there she then began to move onto sewing, darning, knitting, even embroidery. As she grew in age and strength she was able to travel out of the house more, spend more time in the village, visiting the markets where those from the city Paravel arrived to peddle their wares and several took a keen interest in her work.

Adolescence/Training: For a young lady to be offered a job wasn’t uncommon. For a young lady from a backwater village in the middle of nowhere to be offered a job, with training, bed and board, and an allowance even, did cause several eyebrow raises and apparently even an ‘How Unusual’ to be uttered. Under the scrutinous eyes of the ‘well-to-do’ city folk Marias work took a thrashing, they demanded the very latest in fashion designs, the very finest standards of customer service, to be given the designs they asked for but not what they asked for. The first year of her work was brutal. But, like her early years, she survived. Every critique she listened to, every snide comment she bit her tongue, every mistake she examined, every success she studied, and her hard work was rewarded.

Maria’s skills quickly became the talk of the City, customers flocked from all sides to see what the seamstress Maria had designed, the one who could turn simple wool into the finest clothing. But among all her customers there was one she would always adore seeing the most even if all the time they got were a simple wave through the window as he went running past on his delivery run. Lucas had grown up as a street urchin turned budding writer and had been one of the few who had adored her work from the moment she arrived in Parevel to her current fame, and all the garish designs she had tried in between. It was to no one's surprise that the two were soon wed and Lucas, bearing no name of his own, took hers.

Like an arrow from a bow the years suddenly went flying by. The pair were able to afford a modest home with enough room for their son Palladio, then their daughter Charily. A letter from Maria’s sister arrived soon after the birth of their second Daughter (who they hadn’t decided on a name yet) requesting Mary’s help as she had fallen gravely ill the winter just gone. Maria spared no time and rushed off alone to her sister's aid.

Adulthood/After Completing Training: Maria returned weeks later to the charred skeleton of her home. She left the city, left the ruins of her home, left the ghosts of her family. She left her sister with nothing more than curses, blame, and anger, for if she had not called for her then maybe her family would have lived or at the very least her ashes would be resting with theirs.

She fled the city, the parish, and if it were possible she would have fled the country itself. Maria needed to put as much distance between herself and her past. Eventually she found the town of Iludon, a small parish with barely several hundred citizens to the name of House Louvre. For many months Mary lived out of the spare room of a couple (newlyweds Alfredo and Cairia Mauve), who would soon become her most trusted friends, while she did odd jobs around the parish. Eventually her skills caught the eye of the Lady Carnveil Louvre, who owned the parish, and she was taken on to be the Ladys personal seamstress / washerwoman / lady in waiting.

For many years Mary lived in peace, not content but in peace. She served her lady as best she could alongside the other household staff and kept her head low and lived a simple life letting no one know much of her past if anything at all. “There isn’t much to say.” She would say to anyone curious enough to ask. But her skills with needle and thread left her friends and coworkers wondering if there was something more to her.

The day soldiers arrived at the Louvre Manner was the day Mary’s simple life shattered. She led the General into the house, they bore no crests she knew but her Lady had said to let them in anyway apparently expecting them. Mary led the soldiers into the reception and offered refreshments, which the General politely declined, before she asked to excuse herself so as to fetch her Lady. Her Lady had chosen to dress very fine for the General, wearing some of Mary’s finest work including a dress embroidered with a flock of robins along the bottom flapping their wings excitedly as she spun into the room.

“I’m ready, I have my things all packed so you send your men upstairs to get everything.” Her lady proclaimed.

The General stood and nodded politely to the Lady. “Of course, but first I must inspect your work.”

The Lady started slightly at this and demonstrated the dress Mary had made as her own work. Then the General asked to see where she worked, how she used her tools, he asked questions of her craft that to Mary silently considered basic but the Lady struggled to answer. Her Lady’s lie lay shattered and obvious.

“Miss.” The General turned to Mary and pointed a finger to her arm. “That on your sleeve. Who made it?”

Mary looked down at the flowers and bees trailing from the hem of her sleeve up to her shoulder. “I did, sir.” Mary suddenly felt very warm under the General's Gaze, and the room felt just as cold.”

The General asked her the same question he had asked his Lady and Mary answered all his questions with ease. He then asked to see where she worked and she led the General and two members of his squad through the town, through the crowd of whispers and wide eyes, to her home. The General roughly inspected some of her pieces she was still working on and shuffled not uncaringly through her designs. He watched her demonstrate her craft at spinning, weaving, repairing a tear of a tunic. Hours passed of him asking her questions he seemed to only half understand the answers to and watching her work before he said;

“Pack your things.” He spoke with the gentle finality of a key turning in a lock. “We will leave as soon as you are ready.”

Notable Family:
Emily T’ashar (sister, estranged)
Lucas T’ashar (Husband, deceased)
Palladio T’ashar (Son, deceased)
Charily T’ashar (Daughter, Deceased)
Baby T’ashar (Daughter, Deceased)

Notable Figures:
Lady Carnviel Louvre (Former Employer)
Alfredo Mauve (friend)
Cairiad Mauve (friend)

Character Themes: Grief. Anger. Flowers and new life.

Character Tragedy: A fire took her home, her family, her entire life was turned to ash in one night and she hadn’t even been there to see it. She often wonders what would have been, had she been there that night.

Character Flaws: Huge Impostor Syndrome, belittles her own abilities, and a general coward unless pushed.

Hobbies: Writing, Gardening, Baking, Drawing, Reading

Appearance: Well below the average height of many, even for a halfling. While she has a small frame she is healthily plump for a woman of her age. Her age shows through grey hairs sprinkled across her hair kept tidy and neat, in either simple a bun or elaborate braids depending on the plan for the day. She still wears a simple copper ring on her left ring finger.

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eleilinn The Editing Weasel

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