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⸻⠀the self⠀⸻
They're a story teller at heart, theatrical, stylish, strange and all packaged with a dark sense of humour. They are uneasy with their lot in life and feel as though a peice of themselves is missing. When they're alone they have trouble keeping silent, they murmur to inanimate objects filling the empty air that often comes with loneliness. They like to collect things, tales, secrets, forgotten objects. Sometimes they relinquish them back into the world. Someone so small can only hold so much and someone so old only has so much space in their mind. The world is full of infinite tales and their own, they often wish they could forget.
Lately they have been restless, seeking some measure of influence over the world but they're also dreadfully frightened of what new opportunities might bring with them.
ALIGNMENT: Assisting the Destitute, Unbound Curiosity, Respect of the Dead, Duping the Foolish
LIKES: Paper craft, Reusing unwanted objects, Poetry, the Macabre, Rare Desert Rains, Secrets, Traveling
DISLIKES: Iron, Cages, Ships, Deep Water, People who don't watch where they step, Scissors, Open Conflict, Cats
⸻⠀the body⠀⸻
HEIGHT: 27 cm
HAIR COLOR / STYLE: Short tall and Choppy, A Deep Iridescent Purple
EYES: Cyan
SKIN TONE: Dusky Purple
PHYSIQUE: Slender
DOM. HAND: Left-Handed
APPARENT AGE: 30
VOICE: Often whispering, deep, breathy and sometimes melodic with a twinge of an ancient accent, its origins long forgotten. VC - Simon the Harrowed
MODIFICATIONS // Repaired lower wings with a careful patchwork of flocking, adhesive, paper, and thread. Not visible unless closely examined. miniscule golden hoop earrings, Painted Nails
SCARS / MARKINGS // rough scarred skin just below the ankles
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⸻⠀the ability and tools⠀⸻
Their current magical abilities are innate tied to who they are and where they came from but perhaps in time careful study could expand their abilities. Their forgotten magic is tied to their broken bell, not something easily mended if it is possible at all. Their hobbies and art are all the result of necessity, passion and practice.
ABILITIES // Sewing, Art and Various Paper Craft - While it started as a necessity, they grew fond of crafting beautiful things and leaving the world in a more interesting state, Aurel leaves them in his wake as gifts to all those who might find them
Flight - Despite his weak and reconstituted wings, Aurel can fly short distances without too much trouble. Anything beyond the length of a city block would be taxing for them.
Magic - They have innate magic drawn from the land that bore them, as the land changed and they lost track of their roots so did their capabilities.
Combat - Aurel is terrible at combat, With their hollow bones, and small stature there is very little they can do in a fight aside from run away.
SPELLS // Marginal Manipulation of Trash - Over the course of days, millimeters at a time with encouragement and praise, and specially made rhymes of adoration and a touch of their own magic an object may grow to become more useful to the caster. The more forgotten and unwanted the sooner results are seen from such encouragement. Examples of use might include convincing a discarded crust of bread that it is less stale, Mending superficial cracks and stains and Increasing or shrinking the size of found objects for housing, art or transportation.
Restrictions: There is diminishing returns the nearer an object approaches a state that would be considered valuable . Aside from resizing no properties can be assigned to an object that it did not already posses in some capacity. Living beings, magical objects, precious metals, gems, iron, and the bodies of sentient creatures are not considered trash. Intentionally throwing something away so it might be used in such a spell will cause the spell to fail.
Macabre Marionette - An old spell, recently rediscovered. With deep concentration the user might manipulate the movement of what once was living and assign it basic tasks. At this time the spell is limited to the incredibly small and harmless, Insects, Rats things of this ilk.
ATTIRE // They wear leggings and a tunic that they have fashioned for themselves out stolen or discarded tailors and seamstress' scraps. They especially love lace and anything that shimmers.
GEAR // They have no need for weapons but they do sometimes carry a silver sewing needle in crowds to fend of the clumsy or any hungry larger creatures. They also carry a tiny cracked bell that is missing its clapper that they can't remember the use of but can't bear to be rid of it after all this time.
INVENTORY // Rook Firestick's button cart - the size of a mini backpack the button cart holds the gear for their craft and any small coins or materials they have picked up in their travels
Visk the Millipede - an undead familiar they use to pull their matchbox cart about the city (size of a small dog but long instead of tall). A Circular Lens - To aid in the projection of light for their shadow theater.
⸻⠀the story⠀⸻
Pre-memory
A very long time ago near what would one day become one of Khare's harbours, there was a small community of pixie who tended to the succulents and grasses along the banks of the great river. Aurel grew up in that community, eventually becoming keeper of the dead. They tended to the spirits and underground cairns of bodies of those who had passed on, ringing the small spirit bell he carried to beckon them so they might be given guidance for their journey ahead. Time tumbled ever forward inviting exciting change. Hollowed cacti were replaced with grand stone walls and buildings, The River changed its shape, formed into something more polite and amiable to trade, and the detritus of industry accumulated over forgotten tombs With this change the community scattered their tiny world opening up, Aurel staying longest due to their obligation found their magic twisting to suit this new world
The Beginning
Aurel's memory is spotty like a picture traced into a sand much has been scattered and shifted. The furthest back sliver of memory began with a cage. They knew there must have been something that came before the ornate, lofted iron cage that rested in the corner of an ill used private study but that life may as well have been lived by another person. The isolation and persistent emptiness and cruelty was all consuming. Inside the iron they were entirely cut off from their abilities, There wasn't enough space to do more than flutter to a small swing in the 'attic' of the cage. Even terrible things do in time, come to an end. After what may as well have been an infinity of incarceration, it was a rare treat that sparked the pixie with creativity once more. During a rare rain shower and they lay staring at the water beading on the distant glass of the window, it occurred to Aurel that if they rationed their water and dripped it on the joints of one of the bars, in time it might grow weak enough to break. It was dreadfully slow and incremental but eventually, after giving the toxic metal an experimental shove, it buckled into a position wide enough that they could wrench themselves free of the prison. They were too weak to fly and the window was too heavy to open so the rest of their escape was just as harrowing
Travelling Artisan
Terrified they might be returned to cages and tethers, Aurel stowed away on a trade ship intent on getting as far away as possible from their old home. They wandered the world, never staying anywhere long, At first covertly stealing rides but eventually becoming something of a bard themselves they could sometimes pay a meager fare so that they might have company on the road with some of the big folk merchants. It was a simple but colourful life, but the thought of returning home eventually began to gnaw at the back of their mind.
Return to Khare
Eventually happenstance provided a return home, It would be a shame to leave such a beautiful gold swathed city forever. Aurel is anxious about what they might find there, They hope to uncover their past, learn new stories and make something of themselves.
- Queue intro title card-
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