Finally! Holiday is over, traveling complete--here's my character sheet. Let me know if anything seems amiss or if you have any suggestions, [@Mokley]!


[hider=Griff Sylvestro]
[img]https://puu.sh/yORoB/075ffcb05e.png[/img]
(art by [url=http://orange-in-the-overcast.tumblr.com/]orange-in-the-overcast[/url])
[b][center]-name-[/center][/b]
Griffin Sylvestro
[b][center]-age-[/center][/b]
20
[b][center]-hair color-[/center][/b]
Brown
[b][center]-eye color-[/center][/b]
Light brown
[b][center]-distinguishing features-[/center][/b]
Griffin has a tendency to blend into a crowd. He spruces up his mercantile attire with hand-made, intricately-designed leather patches that comprise a baldric--his Family crest, spirographic designs, and small animal graphics, etc. He typically wears light to dark blue clothing, though if out traveling will default to more muted and practical colors. His head of thick, unruly hair is typically tied back in a small ponytail. Griff has light brown skin and stands a little taller than average and is more on the slender than athletic side.

[b][center]-who are their friends, family, comrades?-[/center][/b]
A man of few friends--hard to maintain friendships when you're saddled with a demanding, cut-throat job. Griff knows all of the frequent-flier merchants and tradesfolk of his town, though this is strictly on a professional basis. He can easily curry favors or deals with amenable peers, but that's the extent of the love. Though there was a slightly older woodworker that used to operate the stall next to him in the market square. What was his name...? Started with a D. Daric? Devin? Hmmm.

Griffin's family and the Sylvestro livelihood takes his full focus. Leatherworkers and trappers by trade, the Sylvestros were eleveated to small-time merchant nobility after a few generations of reliable product. His mom and sisters are top of the list when it comes to people that he must look up to and provide for, respectively. The nosedive that the brand has taken in the last few years has caused Griffin to redouble his efforts to provide for the ladies in his life.

[b][center]-where were they born? where do they call home?-[/center][/b]
Griffin was born and raised in the town of Crossroads, a bustling burg aptly named after its location on an intersection of traderoutes in the middle of the continent. It's a lone outpost of civilization encroached by thick woodlands on each side. Though small, it has a high turnover of residents due to the transitory nature of wheeling-and-dealing products to up-and-coming adventurers. 

More specifically, the Sylvestro house is a two-level home of medium size that is located a street over from Crossroad's central market plaza. The family used to have a bold, beautifully-decorated residence; however, in the last year they took it down and the house now blends seamlessly into the neighborhood. 

[b][center]-where do they go when they're angry?-[/center][/b]
When anger boils up in Griff's gut, he silently puts on a coat and skulks out into the wilderness surrounding Crossroads. He has a daily ritual of checking traps and catches for unlucky animals that may have been snared overnight. He'll collect the creatures, release them if their coats or skin are of poor quality, and kill the useable specimens. After that, it's a matter of stoking fires, skinning catches, and drying out and working the leather. Losing himself in the tactile effort of leatherwork allows Griff's worries and fears to burn away. 

[b][center]-what is their biggest fear? who have they told about it? who would they never tell?-[/center][/b]
Griffin's biggest fear is that he'll grow up to be just like his father, whose spitting image people never fail to remind him of. The elder Sylvestro was an expert leatherworker and craftsman with a shrewd business sense. Griffin looked up to him from a very young age. However, his father experienced a slow crawl into madness and alcoholism. A drink a night became several every morning. Stern words over finances became screaming matches with Griffin's mother. Griffin would never tell his mother or sisters that he sees his father's leering reflection in every mirror, every puddle of rainwater. He fears she would see the same. 

[b][center]-do they have a secret?-[/center][/b]
If he could disappear one day, leave all of this behind, Griffin thinks he could make miracles with a fresh start. A new name, a new [i]brand[/i]...If it wasn't for the love and loyalty he felt for his family, Griffin would set off down one of the crossroads and never look back.

[b][center]-what makes them laugh out loud?-[/center][/b]
Not much, Griffin doesn't see a lot of humor in the world. His youngest sister, Maria, has a particular affection for jokes and puns. The right wordplay, coming from the right person causes him to crack a smile.

[b][center]-have they ever been in love?-[/center][/b]
No. [i]"In love with my leather, perhaps"[/i] he'd answer sarcastically to probing questions from his sisters. However, as the years passed, Griffin thinks back more and more frequently to the woodworker boy that he shared stories with on summer nights. The young man whose name Griffin insists that he can't recall.

[b][center]-describe the things that would be hard for them to part with.-[/center][/b]
His family. Though the prospect of new scenery seems thrilling, Griffin loves the familiarity of Crossroads and would also deeply miss his traveler's town. 

[b][center]-describe the smells and sounds of their childhood kitchen.-[/center][/b]
A thick aroma of game and smoke. A huge bubbling stewpot, fires diligently stoked by his young sisters. His mother in the kitchen, chopping parsnips and gossiping with Griffin's favorite aunt.

[b][center]-describe one strong memory from childhood.-[/center][/b]

[i]It had been three days. 

Three days since Griffin's father had set out to complete his usual routine: Check the traps. Untangle the snares. Drink the ale. String up the catch. Drink the flask of morning-wine. Return to the shop. Skin the carcass. Chew on a square of tobacco. Scream at the neighbor to keep the noise down. Drink the ale. Carve into the skin. Dry the hide. Scrape the gore off of the workbench. Drink the ale. Go to the plaza. Set up shop. Talk up the wares. Close shop. Go home. Sleep. Wake up, and check the traps...

But he hadn't come back, hadn't closed the loop. Three days. Now three nights. 

Griffin stared at the jaws of an animal trap, closed around two legs of a raccoon. The creature was dead. Blood loss, dehydration. It had try to chew its own legs off in blinded panic. Something else had come along to chew on the raccoon as it slowly died over the course of three days. 

Griffin pursed his lips, and pried the iron jaws open. The carcass, bent wildly obtuse, sunk to the cover of leaves that littered the ground. Griffin wiped a bead of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. He stood up, and looked around. Squinted through the dimness of the forest. 

He turned, and looked back towards Crossroads. Obscured by trees, but still [i]there[/i], still bustling and breathing. Still hungry for commerce. Families thriving right on that cusp of financial security. A few bad days could lead into a bad week. That could lead into a total downturn of business as the brand faded. Fewer saddles with the Sylvestro name burned into them. Foreign belts from southern roads cinching up breeches. 

Griffin took a deep breath, and wiped away some sweat that had dripped into his eyes. He shivered, and thought the day would be better spent not looking for any other half-eaten carcasses staring wide-eyed into the woods.[/i]

[b][center]-what do they want most of all?-[/center][/b]
Financial security for his family and prestige for the Sylvestro name. Griffin will do anything, work as hard as he possibly can, to put his stake into a new boon. Explore any avenue that could turn everything around.

[b][center]-what is their interest in the motes?-[/center][/b]
Griffin has heard stories of the motes--huge boulders that can vanish in an instant. Turn things upside-down. Light and quash fires in the blink of an eye. Something about a scurrying boat? It doesn't matter. He's been waiting for years for one to appear close enough to Crossroads to warrant gazing upon its runes. Griffin fully intends to chip off as many chunks of the mote he can to sell them to the highest bidder. Perhaps see if he can work the stones into leather armor and boast of its magical nature. He just knows that motes will be the Sylvestro family's big break.

[b][center]-give a (non-spoilery) synopsis of a small adventure-plot that would be personally meaningful for your character.-[/center][/b]
I don't know where the motes will take us, nor where exactly this adventure will go, but I think it would be fascinating to visit a far-off town and have Griffin immediately recognize the leatherwork present on belts and armor as his own. Though his family wrote off the Sylvestro patriarch as dead, maybe that wasn't the case at all. Maybe Griffin's father ran away, or got lost, or was swept away by a mote himself. Not sure exactly, but he's probably out there.
[/hider]