Fantasy Village of Clopcomb (Characters)

[eldorado]

Characters
you can use a picture if you really want to, but i’d prefer just words. You can always add more detail.

1. Your name
2. Describe your appearance and maybe your personality too. What do people of the village think of you when they see you?
3. Describe your family history with the village, the prominent members of your family, and your family’s influence on the village
4. In dialogue, speak your character’s thoughts about the village and your character’s life. What does your character want out of life, what are his values?

 

[eldorado]

1. Oswen Holden the Sower’s Son
2. As a youth just grown into adolescence, Oswen is still getting used to his adult height. Even though he’s no taller than the average man, he’s constantly reminding the other kids that he’s a man now, and they better listen to him. He’s developed pulling muscles lately, too, to everyone’s chagrin, and the strength of his youth has gone straight to his head. A boy’s beard dusts his jaw, angry brow protrudes over his eyes, and his disheveled brown curls are at a constant war between too long and too short.
3. His family is one of the three largest in the village, and with twenty cousins and five brothers, they hold some sway in the village meetings. Gordon the Sower is the patriarch, a beard to his feet. When he speaks, the whole room loses its voice, and no one speaks after to argue, only to agree. The Sowers always work in the interest of the fields, and their votes and decisions are in the interest of the fields, because if the fields prosper, they prosper. From a young age, Sowers are working in the fields, because watering and picking can be done by anyone, but a man does it alone. They are a quarrelling and stubborn kind and slow to make peace, and that is why they are often miserable.
4. “You see that? A man’s beard. Won’t be long now. Father’s already given me the plow for plowin’, and after that it’ll be the fields, and then the mantle. Who’s the one what brought in seventy bushels of our fruits? Who bested Harold James in a bout of fists? And who was given the tankard of the harvest on the night of the full moon? My father’s proud eyes will not be disappointed. When the mantle is mine, I will multiply our fields and raise up our houses.”

 

[Rurnur]

Name: Snaeb, the Meat Destroyer (Pronounced "Sneeb")

Appearance: Just over 3 feet tall, Snaeb is an exceptionally tall Goblin, towering over pretty much any other Goblin, or.. at least that's what he tells the rest of the town, who (hopefully) have never and will never see another Goblin in their lives. His skin possesses a sickly lime green tinge, and is much thicker and bumpier than a human's, perhaps more akin to that of a large toad. His hair is blood-red in color, and is tied back past his receding hairline (despite him only being 4 years old). Rarely taking the time to shave, his prominent jaw is usually covered in prickly red hairs, with two spiky tufts of hair sprouting out under his ears and along his jawline. Most of the time he can be seen wearing just a pair of old leggings and a belt, perhaps once belonging to a child (if it was up to him, he likely wouldn't wear anything at all), occasionally accompanied by a blood-spattered apron. In his short life, he's become quite a powerful Goblin, with exceptionally noticeable bulging muscles in his right arm only.

Personality: Snaeb is an instinctual, primal creature who only barely has enough self-awareness to function in the village's society. He's obsessive, greedy, and obnoxious. However, he is extremely energetic, determined and hard-working, making him one of the most valuable workers in the village. He will often act on a whim however, causing various forms of chaos due to his impulsive nature. In general, the villagers have grown accustomed to Snaeb's presence in the village, as many have grown to appreciate his hard work that no other human could do. After all, it was in the nature of a Goblin to be absurdly fast and strong, as in comparison to a human, a Goblin only possesses a mere fraction of their lifespan. But of course, some villagers have had better and worse experiences with the Goblin, and the ones who ended up facing the consequences of his shenanigans may be on less than friendly terms with him.

History: At some point around the time Snaeb was born, he was taken in by the local butcher and handed a hammer, and punished whenever he hammered anything other than meat which needed tenderizing. Without this harsh training, there's no way a goblin like Snaeb could have hoped to live (at least somewhat) peacefully in the village. However, as Snaeb grew older and slightly more mature, he began to seek out other "meat to tenderize" as the regular old beef or venison simply wasn't doing it for him anymore. Though, despite how much the village may tire of his antics, they will still look out for him, and make sure he keeps out of too much trouble.

Snaeb's adoptive "father", Gregor, is a member of one of the village's oldest families; the Ironbloods. Today though, the Ironblood family has dwindled and all that remains are Gregor, his brother, and a handful of nephews and nieces. A few years ago, Gregor's three sons had all set out from the village to seek fame and glory, but were never heard from again. This affected Gregor deeply, turning him into a stubborn and spiteful man. Refusing to give up his butcher's business to his brother's offspring, he went so far as to train an orphaned goblin to assist him at work, viewing the young Goblin as more of a tool than anything else. That changed, however, as Snaeb became a more integral part of the town, earning Gregor's respect.

"Ah? What's it to ya? I smack the meat! I destroy all of the meats until it's nice and tender enough for villagers teeth to eat!" Snaeb gnashes his teeth together, before raising up his right arm onto the table and flexing his muscles. "Heh heh! Strongest in the village! Ya see? Snaeb gonna be a mighty warrior, with his mighty hammer." He chuckles before pulling a bulky, worn out meat tenderizing hammer from his belt and slamming it on the table, causing the wood to creak and splinter. It appeared to be not much more than a block of metal on a stick, stained with decade-old blood. "Ain't nobody beat the meats like ol' Snaeb, everybody knows it!" He claimed smugly, before his eyes glazed over bright red, taking a whiff of the air, the goblin quickly jumped onto his hands and knees and began chasing a large rat out of the butcher's room.

 

[wristalies]

1. Hylas Wake, Son of Catherine
2. A sinewy half-pint of a man, he is barely the height of the average male and appears scrawny to onlookers. His hair grows in unruly locks that are the same flaxen strands as his mother, to whom he owes no other significant features besides the occasional wistful stare. There is a starkness to his profile, given a sharp curvature of his nose and an angular structure that establishes his severity. Running down his left forearm from the pad of his palm is a violet burn scar, dealt to him from a mishap during his apprenticeship. Although it isn’t recent, it caused him a fear of fire that hasn’t left him. Despite the unimpressive stature, his movements are facile and unafraid. While the plow is a cumbersome artifact upon his slender shoulders, the agile language of hunter is second nature. From an early age Hylas was impulsive and uncooperative. He had little patience for tasks which required the dedication long before promise of return. He scorned the collective guidance of the village, was quick to land himself in trouble, and was nearly excommunicated after an incident of inexplicable violence towards another villager’s son. While most regard him as the unfortunate example of bastardization, what few see is his intelligence. His fixations with tools and a fletcher’s set have him brewing over crude inventions for hours. It is perhaps how Hylas feels equal, with some form of power despite his deviation from society.
3. The Wakes are a meager settling on the town. His mother Catherine and his uncle Arlo are his only kin. Catherine upon distant observation is his quiet and unobtrusive guardian. Although anyone who has dealt with her in the past knows there is something deeply off about her. She spends the majority of her days watching the window, waiting for her son’s return from the fields. It is Hylas’ uncle who took on the burden of raising him. Had it not been for the blacksmith’s esteemed talents and skill amid the forge, Hylas would have certainly been drive away. Arlo taught the boy something of a reserved nature, and ever since his disruptions to the village have dissipated, leaving him a seemingly normal if silent young man. Arlo himself tried to apprentice Hylas to his vocation, but with little success. Hylas had little appreciation for the glow of the forge, the technique to upsetting a searing hot slab of metal. After his accident, he was forced into the fieldwork. Considered too measly to be effective elsewhere, he was not offered the chance to hunt. However once collecting his uncle’s scraps, he fixed himself a weapon and began to teach himself in the evenings.
4. “There, on the hilltop. You can see ‘im perched. See how his ears quiver, they flinch real fast? But foxes aren’t a brave pack, they wouldn’t tail too close to the village even for the likes of a fresh-bleeding flank. Rabbits, those are your ambitious thieves. The sound alone of a grown man’s foot sends them jerking back to the moss. But you watch ‘im. Watch ‘im dart as soon as the windfall changes, knowing how to evade you altogether.”