Octavia Heineken

Character Name: Octavia Heineken

Race: Dwelf

Age: 40

Gender: Female

Character Description:

Octavia is a dwelf standing at a proud 3'5", with merlot red waves of hair that travel down her back, pale, freckled skin and bright green eyes. She's slightly stockier than the average dwelf may be, if only caused by her lifelong work in carpentry. She has various scars on her hands and arms from the work, and laughter crinkles around her eyes. Her voice is on the higher side, contrasted with her deep, booming laugh.

Character Occupation: (Optional)

Wielding a hammer since she was old enough to grasp, Octavia has worked in the trades her whole life, mostly crafting wooden structures or components to tools and weapons. However, she has also been known to tan and sew the leather that she needs for her various crafts, as the needs arose.

Character Personality/Traits:

Octavia is a simple woman, with simple desires. A place for her to live, a place for her to work, a full purse and food on the table. A hard worker at her core, she always puts in her full effort into any task she's given. She has no hatred of who or what she is, but deeply resents her elven mother, which has extended into a lifelong bias against high elves in the process. She is much more comfortable with her dwarven heritage, and doesn't consider herself elvish in any regard other than her 'inconvenient bloodline'. She isn't outwardly rude if she can help it, but she sure doesn't trust them as she would other races. As long as they don't impede her work to become an established and well-known tradeswoman, she couldn't care about them either way. Having worked her whole life to pay off a debt she never accrued, she is frugal to a fault, and obsessed with making money off of her works. She won't make any purchases she doesn't deem necessary, and prefers to trade her creations for any items of luxury she allows herself--only to feel ashamed of it later.

Character Biography:

Octavia is the child of a dwarven father, and an elven mother. After she was born, her mother abandoned her and her father, leaving the tradesman to navigate his career and single fatherhood to a tiny tornado of a daughter. To make ends meet, he taught her the trade of carpentry, having her assist him at very young ages as they worked with other tradesworkers around the city, building structures and making repairs, crafting tools and supplies that could no longer be imported. From handing over tools, hammering her first nail, to whittling her first toy, he was her rock, her caretaker, her cheerleader, her entire world. At the age of 12, her life would take a turn when armed soldiers found their humble home, approaching their father. They represented a wealthy arms maker whom Octavia's mother owed a great debt to--she lived a life of thieving and bribery, and had the misfortune of getting caught after stealing and selling equipment to fund her partying and drinking. As usual, when she was caught, broke and destitute, the so cleverly thought of something she could repay them with--other than her own life. Her mother and the individual established that in ten years time, she would have a child, and they would be given in her place. Armor and weapons were precious, after all, and quickly dwindling as supplies were needed. After her mother left them--perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of fear that they would both be taken-- her habits eventually caught up to her, and she passed at a young age...the merchant could wait no more--was time to collect. She was taken in the night, listening to her father's screams. It would be the last time she ever heard his voice. She spent many, many years working for the individual and their business, kept hidden in their warehouses and workshops. Repairing their structures, making tools, carving weapons, she did it all. She spent her youth replenishing what had been lost with the Pact War, and needed for the demon threats--all that her mother had taken with interest--all because she couldn't own up to the consequences of her actions. She saw her freedom not out of fully repaying, but only when the vicious Plague ate its way through the countryside, soon claiming the workers and management company she served. She barely escaped with her life, fleeing in the night. Falkvard...she had heard of its reclamation, and always dreamed of fleeing to the new bastion of hope, finally leaving this blasted city behind... anyone from the company who had also survived and fled couldn't care less about going after her, they had their own lives to fear for. With her newfound freedom, she would attempt to find her father--perhaps she could take him with her, and they could live the life that had been taken from him--but couldn't find him before she fled the city. She spent years wandering with nothing to her name, taking odd jobs and hitchhiking (with territory expansions, wars, cultists, and cold winters, a carpentry peddler was rarely without work) across the land to arrive at Falkvard, where a stable life might finally begin at last.

Other/Extra:

Magic Biography:

Octavia has known of her elven heritage her whole life--a heritage she resented after her mother abandoned her. Her father, having no magic himself, was not able to teach her any skills of it, thus she had a rather mundane upbringing. It wasn't until she was brought into the service of the wealthy individual that she had any real experience at all, watching some soldiers who were picking up their weapons train with their trinkets. Being often called to repair dummies or sparring weapons, she would be constantly subjected to it, as well as their own mentors discussing concepts with them--much of which she couldn't really understand. She would try it once--when she was barely in her teens. On a rainy day, a customer had left their small water trinket laying upon the ledge of a window. She knew she must have SOME potential, and she had seen a bit of fancy work with it, so she saw it at least worth the attempt--just to see if her mother had given her anything useful. Grasping it in her hand, the beads of water rolling down the glass pane would seem to slow, or halt in place..until she was startled by the barking of another worker. She had been caught. A week of no meals and solitary leather tanning encouraged her to never try again...not until she was free, at least.

Please describe the magic system, including its limitations in your own words:

Magic is a blessing of Bothimir, granted to mortal people either through race or through gifting. However, magic can only be channeled through ancient magical artefacts known as trinkets. These trinkets can range from weak and whimpy to extremely powerful. A magic user's output is not only limited to their magical skill, but the capacity of the trinket and the aspect the trinket is for. They are also limited to the magical mastery given by their race. A character may cast a certain amount of spells with which are within their capabilities, with higher-tier spells costing more magical energy than lower tier. Overcasting is to cast spells beyond your limit, which can greatly harm you. Some mages may be so powerful in an aspect that they can cast very weak spells without real effort--such spells are known as cantrips. Magic must be trained to grow stronger -- having a teacher can assist greatly. If you do not train your magic, it grows weaker and weaker.

Please describe how you would use a weak trinket with your characters first/only aspect:

Magic can be very useful, when applied practically to her craft, rather when steaming wood or agitating chemicals and salts diluted in water for tanning. With her water aspect trinket, her gentle agitation of the water allows her to better soak her skins in their barrels, allowing the fibers to be limed and de limed, and salted and cleaned of bacterias and fungi that would putrefy the skin. Or to maximize the water steamed to bend her yew wood, pulling the water droplets from the sides of the pot. Nothing wasted!