Tortoise

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

Ere we go, Vorex the knowledge thingy

Some things are subject to change, this is just a V0.1 version

Vorex Lector

Name: Vorex Lector



Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:

A Homonculus created by an ancient civilization. Basically it's life-infused clay, but unlike a Golem it has a mind of it's own. 5610 years old. Last seen wandering the Forest of Emerald


Appearance:

As a Homonculus, Vorex has a weird look to it. A singular massive eye is the key feature of its look. However the dark blue skin does not help either, it stands a small 132 cm (4'3) tall with weirdly long arms and hands in the shape of a human.

History:
Vorex was granted life eons ago by an ancient forgotten civilization. Even Vorex does not know who, or what created it. It was granted a sole purpose in life, to protect the knowledge within the massive library it was created in. This could be achieved by use of force, persuasion or by sheerly memorizing the books. Which is eventually what Vorex did, as a Homonculus without brain, it was not limited by how much information it could absorb. Thus Vorex started absorbing all the books in the grandiose library, however, it turns out there was 1 caveat. Vorex could not access the knowledge by his own wanting, he could copy books perfectly at the request of others, but not access them himself.

During the fall of the unknown empire, the library was destroyed beyond help. The architecture in shambles, the books burned, forgotten or turned to dust Vorex was left without a purpose and all on its own. It had due to some fortunate accident survived the fall and raiding that went before that. One fateful day it had gotten stuck in a place in the library, a place nobody really checked, thus he sat there waiting... and waiting... waiting for someone to come free it. This took an endless amount of time until enough time had passed for the entire ecosystem around Vorex to change. A small creek had grown into a grand river during the course of thousands of years. This in turn had corroded the place where Vorex was stuck leaving him with a way out. Thus inspecting his surroundings Vorex had concluded his masters were no more. Its last purpose rang in its head, rebuild the library, and with that Vorex set out.

Personality:

Created with one purpose in mind, Vorex will do whatever it deems necessary to rebuild the library he was created in. Currently, that means joining the Caravan to gather new information, new books, and new places to learn. Vorex is amicable to others and willing to help by virtue of creating books.


Motivation:

Gathering of knowledge, finding a way to rebuild the grand Library.


Skills:

Has basically an entire library stuffed away in his head and is inhumanely fast in copying books from it.

Strengths:

Trained in close-quarters combat, to protect itself and the books.

Can divide its mind into 2. This allows it to constantly write while doing other things or double the speed at which it copies books.

A font of knowledge.

Weaknesses:

Has all this insane knowledge but no way to access it by itself.

Basically created for 1 thing and 1 thing only. He does not possess anything beyond that, which leads to it coming off as completely socially inept.


Tools:

A duo of magically enchanted quills that are linked. If one writes in the air the other will write that down in a book. (Credit to @Expendable for coming up with this idea)

Extras

What They Most Want:

To find their library or rebuild it.

If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:

True Neutral

Three Likes:

Knowledge, people asking for books, learning new things.

Three Dislikes:

People disrespecting books, people hoarding knowledge and his past.


Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:

Their mind, for Vorex has no heart


Worst Fear:

Being unable to rebuild the grand library.

Favorite Color:

None, Vorex was not given one.

Most Like The Animal:

A crow? Since it's linked to knowledge and wisdom.

Favorite Time of Day:

Night.

How They Dress:

Always seen in what seems to be the same jute coat.


Favorite Season:

None, Vorex was not given one.

What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers They Worship (If Any):

None.

@twannyman

A p p r o v e d. I like the idea that he has the knowledge in his head, but he can only access it when someone asks for it to be written out. Like he theoretically knows the width and shape of the world, or how a necromancer becomes a lich, or what the speed of an unladen swallow is, but he can't actually remember any of that until the quill is in his hand.

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

Lynn, The Weaver

✴ ꒒ꌦꋊꋊ & Pietro ✴

#9F84FF ✦ #B7D1FF

Human, 28, about one year with the caravan // Human, 6

✴ Appearance: Lynn has curly blonde hair that reaches just below her ears and blue eyes like the autumn sky. She was once young and beautiful, but her innocence has long since been lost, and her beauty has been weathered by years of hardship. Her eyes, once clear and bright, are now sad and tired. Her body bears the marks of abuse, hard work, and motherhood. But past her bruises, scars, and stretch marks is a resolute mother, and that determination has made her hands rougher and her arms stronger. The callouses on her hands are from her weaving.

She usually wears long robes and dresses in dark colors--gray, black, dark blue, and dark purple. She tries to hide her figure as much as possible, aware of the looks and judgement it brings.

Her dear Pietro takes much after his father, with short, black hair, wide brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his face. His round face is expressive and honest. He wears a dark blue tunic with green lizards on it--hand-woven by his mother.

History

Lynn was once young. She once lived a modest but happy life in the countryside, surrounded by those who loved her. And she once saw the smoke rising from her neighbor's homes, and the warlord's army descending. As a child, Lynn saw her village razed, her parents murdered, and her friends taken away to become slaves, like her. Barely a teenager and now a slave, Lynn was shipped across seas and carted across plains for more than a year, traded between the hands of merchants who dealt with humans like livestock. At the end of the journey was a city that seemed like paradise--the city of Liva.

Ah, Liva! City of color and light, city of smells and tastes and sights so wonderous one might even call it gaudy! Here, the women dress up for breakfast, then change their outfits at lunchtime, and then again for dinner, evening, and bed. Here, the men parade the streets on majestic black steeds, armor gleaming, glittering, blinding. Here, the children light firecrackers in the streets at dusk, their shouts of joy mixing with the sounds of the city--half melody, half cacophony. In Liva, festivals are held almost every day, and the people are permanently drunk with wild joy, or maybe just drunk.

In loud, blinding Liva, Lynn found herself.

Liva was lively. Yes, even beautiful; but even the most beautiful city has its flaws, and Lynn saw most of them up close. The love of beauty became vanity, the love of celebration became frenzy, and the love of love became lust. And for a city whose appetite for the beautiful, shiny, and spectacular is unending, the supply must be also be unending. With her golden curls and rapidly developing figure--a non-issue to the Lynn Protected, but a dangerous, unnerving thing to the Lynn Captured--Lynn was the perfect product. The madam of the Blue Rose, a well-to-do brothel, immediately recognized the value in the young girl, and purchased her on the spot.

She was sold at the age of 14. By 15, she was a favorite of many patrons across Liva, both important and unimportant, and Madam Rose could not be more proud of her top earner.

Those years were the hardest for Lynn. The people of Liva did everything so loudly, and she struggled to learn their flowery language and extravagant customs. And while not every client of hers was a depraved beast, all were faceless, unfeeling. She grew used to being used. Her blonde curls, once the pride of the village, were now just another reminder of the vanity of Livans. Her body was a nothing more than an encouragement to insult, to catcall, to touch, to judge, to use. She was always being touched, everywhere. Some men would hurt her. Others would barely look at her.

By the time she was 18, though, things had begun to change. Madam Rose and the Blue Rose had prospered, and the prostitutes of the brothel were treated well. Lynn ate well; she was warm and well-groomed. Her beauty had fully blossomed, and she knew how to reel in the customers with a gentle and kind demeanor. The other prostitutes knew her, and while some were jealous, others offered her advice and wisdom. She learned how to navigate Liva, learned how to speak their language like she was born there, learned to love, in least in some small part of her, their festivals, their fashion, their songs.

It was then that she was introduced to the loom. The craft of weaving captured Lynn's heart and mind. The weavers of Liva were proud and skilled craftswomen, and Lynn admired their dedication and their stern countenances--traits so not like Livans, and yet these weavers were behind all the most beautiful outfits in the city. It took time to learn the craft, and longer to convince the weavers to teach her, but soon enough Lynn had a small loom in her room, where she would weave for hours. The detailed, repetitive work soothed her; feeling the threads grounded her mind in the present, the painful memories of the last decade melted away into nothingness, and Lynn could believe she was almost happy.

Things continued like that for years. Lynn continued her work at the loom and at the brothel, dreaming of the day she could sell her work, leave the Blue Rose, and maybe even go home. The turning point came when she met Valentin.

Tall, handsome, and gentlemanly, Valentin was her client only once. Captured by Lynn's beauty and intrigued by what might lie behind her gentle persona, he returned to the Blue Rose again and again, just to catch a glimpse of the "true Lynn." Lynn was struck by Valentin's unbothered manner, his oddly modest dress, and the way he seemed to really care about her. What began as curiosity grew into a friendship, and then, eventually, a romantic relationship. For the first time in more than a decade, Lynn felt respected and loved. For the first time in years, she had hope for a better future.

At 26, Lynn gave birth to her third child, a son.

Finally. A chance at a happy life, a normal life. Away from the Blue Rose, away from Madam Rose, away from her past life. Valentin had wealth, but he was also private; with him, Lynn could spend her days weaving and caring for her son, unbothered by the judgement of society. Just them three, a happy family.

Imagine her surprise, then, when Lynn discovered that Valentin had a wife. Heartbroken and furious, she confronted Valentin, only for him to dismiss, berate, and insult her. It was when he raised his hand against her that she understood: Valentin was not going to give her the happy life she wanted. She returned to her loom in tears, her hopes and spirit crushed.

Yet, when she looked at her newborn son, she couldn't stand the idea of staying in Liva a second longer. Her son deserved better than this vapid, soulless city that had used and abused her for so long. It was clear Valentin didn't care about them and wouldn’t lift a finger to help, and Madam Rose was bound to be just as (or more) merciless.

It was decided, then: She would have to do this herself.

Lynn's departure was as unassuming as her entrance. No Livan paid mind to the woman with a baby boy in her arms, her precious loom strapped to her back, and her curls chopped off. She boarded the caravan without a second thought, refusing to look back at the city she had called home for decades. The Lynn of Liva was no more. And good riddance!

✴ Personality: Tired, so tired. Lynn has spent a lifetime being used by others, and makes one weary.

Outwardly, Lynn will appear quiet, mild, and gentle, but inside, she is a woman of resolute strength and will. She is wary of anybody or anything that could pose a threat to her child, and she's fiercely protective of her son and his happiness. Healing for herself may be impossible, but she'll do anything she can to ensure that Pietro has a long, full life ahead of him. Even if that means lying, manipulating, or seducing (hopefully not!).

Past the secrecy and distrust, though, is a warm and loving mother. Lynn wouldn't think of herself this way, but she is still capable of great love, especially to young women and children. The past year with the caravan has given her some time to relax and perhaps even heal, and her weaving and her son give her something to work for. Maybe, given enough time, she can begin to hope again.

Lynn brings with her Pietro, also called "Pio" by his mother and other children. Pio is a bright and energetic child, endlessly curious about the world. Traveling the caravan at such a young age has given him an endless supply of new things to learn and new people to talk to! He can usually be found asking never-ending questions to anyone who will answer him--under his mother's supervision, of course. Pio has an interest in magic, among many others, but his mother is unsure if he should pursue it.

✴ Motivation: To give her child a better life, and to find the children she's lost.

✴ Skills: Lynn has no magic, but she is a skilled weaver with decades of experience in the art of making clothing, from procuring supplies to dyeing garments to sewing, etc. She speaks several languages (this is to be determined when I know how many languages there are) and possesses a lovely singing voice. She is good with children and often takes care of the caravan's children.

✴ Strengths: Although she's no scholar, Lynn could be called "street smart." She knows her way around people and money and is pretty perceptive.

✴ Weaknesses: Lynn is only human; she isn't going to put up a fight against any physical or magical force. Like many of the caravan, she prefers to keep to herself, and she can't read or write. She is also incredibly touch-adverse, and will freeze up or lash out if touched without warning.

✴ Tools: Her loom and her weaving supplies. Her and Pietro rent half of a wagon from an older woman in the caravan.

Additional Info

What She Most Wants: for Pio to be happy.

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

Three Likes: Weaving, Pietro, a long nap

Three Dislikes: Being touched, being stared at, liars

Does She Follow Her Heart or Their Mind?: Heart

Worst Fear: Losing Pietro

Favorite Color: Royal Purple

Favorite Food: Tomato Sandwich.

Favorite Time of Day: Sunset.

Favorite Season: Autumn.

What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers She Worships: Lynn has prayed to them all, and none of them have answered.

Other: Lynn has had two other children in her youth, both daughters, that were taken from her soon after birth. She aches for them.

All done and waiting for confirmation :).

@OliveYou

Confirmation granted. Lynn's story is very sad, but she still has hope. You can drop her in the char tab whenevers; it's nice to have such a human element amongst all our cursed monks and adventuring giants and whatnot.

Also, I strongly encourage you to join our Discord. Even if one does not speak much on it, its still a good source to hear what others are planning and keep up with the general community around this RP. discord.gg/yTNB7usjEA

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

@Tortoise I think I'll make my own! Fun worldbuilding practice.
Are there any recommendations / guidelines / hard no's when it comes to content within the character's backstory? Right now, my character is a former prostitute, and I just wanted to make sure there were no objections to that. There's no graphic content in the backstory, but if anyone is uncomfortable with the concept, I can make a different character.

@OliveYou

No, other than not being too graphic, I wouldn't place any limitations on that kind of backstory. You're good. I look forward to seeing the sheet!

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

@Tortoise My current idea is a mother and her child. Not sure if there will be much magic involved.
Also, is there a list of the current nations / places? I might not use any of them, but I want to know if there are any already created cities that might house my character's backstory. Good to build on others ideas and all that.

@OliveYou

Ah, not yet, alas. That's one of the things I'm working on, down in the "Lore of Alwyne" section, but I haven't had the chance to fill in the Places yet. It's on the to-do list.

Besides, the only places we have thus far would be those mentioned in our Character Sheets. So, if you wanted to read through other player's sheets to see what sort of nations they describe their characters as coming from, you could do so.

Since you want a city, I might point you in particular to Enigmatik's WIP sheet here. Within their character's history, they have described a city of Trist that sounds promising for potential stories. Not to mention that Enigmatik is a good friend of mine, and their ideas are always solid.

All that said, I would also encourage players this early on in the game to come up with their own nations and places, to help us fill out Alwyne a lil more. So feel free to just create your own; we're still at the beginning of things, after all. All up to you :)

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

Athulwin

Addressing: @Enigmatik

There's an expression in the Old Marshes, a warning whispered from ear to ear and from mothers to their children. "Where the wind blows, a Sayer hears." There's a reason it's one of the most common languages practiced by the Uttering Monks. Sitting with his wooden window propped open, with his eyes on a book and his head off daydreaming, Athulwin nonetheless hears many of the comings-and-goings of the Caravan, the sounds of it all carried to him magically by the wind. When people talk, snitches and snippets of their conversation comes to the Monk. When they take heavy footsteps, they echo towards his reading nook. He does not know everything. He only hears what the Wind chooses to tell him, and it is a spirit both fickle and unpredictable. Nonetheless, he is aware of much.

Through the window, he hears...

People are upset. The Caravan is confused as to why it has stopped here. The refugees who came begging are grateful for all the help, but the Pilgrims themselves aren't sure why they can't keep on moving through this accursed wood and get back out into the open country again. Athulwin hears the voice of Gadri Abzan muttering, saying they'll see what they can do to get them all moving again. It seems like the dwarven smith didn't say that line to any one person in particular, so in one if its fits of whimsy, the Wind decided that Athulwin should be the receiving end.

He hears Gru refuse to reveal his methods- again- which is dissapointing, but he is glad that the monger can show a little bit of willingness to bargain. That is an unexpected good turn. Athulwin doesn't much care for Gru as a human being. He's faithless. He's what the Uttering Monks back in Queensrock would have called a self-seeker, one who has turned from pursuing higher things and now looks inward, hurting those around him by trying to satisfy himself out of himself. An impossible thing. But he is a master of his particular art, and that's something to respect.

And, as expected, the calm voice of Knossos blows through the window too, reassuring Athulwin that the old occultist will be along in just a minute. For a warlock (or whatever he is- he might be a full-blown necromancer for all Athulwin can tell), the Dreamwalker is perhaps the most polite soul in the Caravan. It's refreshing. So many here are road-hardened travelers, more concerned with getting somewhere fast than showing proper respect. It irks the Navigator. But he's also a little irked, and confused, as to why he does not yet hear one particular voice, a yipping one that he expected by no-

"Knock knock! Malleck here! Got your message Athulwin!"

Ah.

Athulwin rises with creaking joints from his seat, his knees popping loud in protest. He summons up his mystical Aura on the way, so that he'll be properly intimidating and persuasive. When he swings open the door to his little, rich Caravan, he is looking at the eager and sincere face of a dog straight from the savannahs.

"You know, Master Freepaw," he looks down at the Ainok singer, "most other people just talk into the wind to answer me. I would have heard it." Maybe. "Hmm. Would you like to come in?" His smile is real, nonetheless.

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

This is such a great idea. Y'all have room for one more?

@OliveYou

We have room for infinite more!

Kinda interested, you still have room for more?

@Theyra

Indeed! I allow as many people as want to join. Whatchya thinking about making?

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

I wasn't expecting so many half-humans here. Maybe we should get t-shirts?

@Expendable

The Half-and-Half Club.

I'd call you halflings but that name is taken.

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

Announcements, everybody!

1. Progress on the Lore of Alwyne has begun. You will now find short descriptions of (most of*) the magics and other powers we have invented, as well as the more unique races, in the OP.

2. We now have a Discord!

discord.gg/5EyKPRc4

*more to be done next time I have an abundance of free time.

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

A great first post, @Overlord Thraka. I especially loved your description of the Caravan.

Wonderous wagons moving on their own, or else pulled by strange and exotic beasts. Enormous wagons big as houses, to carts so small that they barely held the single occupant, and more-often were filled to the brim with several. The people too were something else. Poor and rich and inbetween, young and old and some perhaps even dead if the smell was any indicator. Humans and Dwarves and Elves, Lizardmen and Catfolk and all manner of Beast-men. Just yesterday a large slug pulling a wagon had shouted at her to move aside while it inched forward, leaving a slimy trail on the ground behind it.

That's almost precisely the brand of chaos that had I imagined when I came up with this RP.

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

Sorry, boys and girls, I fell asleep last night. I tried to will my body to stay up later but it didn't wanna hear me out.

The Lore of Alwyne is still in progress.

There we go, the cheesemonger has arrived.

@Lugubrious

Ah, yes, the Wisconsinite.

(Excellent writing on your first post, btw.)