Loric
- Player:CG Nobles
- Level:3
- Experience:800 XP
- Class (subclass):Wizard (School of Knowledge)
- Heritage:Wanderborne Infernis
- Pronouns:He/Him
- Handfulls:131
- Completed Adventures:
- 4
- Last Adventures:
- 19 days ago
Lore League
Daggerheart
The name's Loric.
Back in Ghee, people just call me the 'Mender.' I run a small workshop—'The Second Chance,' it's called. If something's broken, be it a chair, a child's toy, or a farmer's plow, they bring it to me. I've always had a knack for seeing how things are meant to fit together. It’s a quiet life, and a good one.
I didn't grow up there, though. My story starts in a gray, crowded orphanage in the city. I don't know who my parents were; I was left on a temple step with nothing but a blanket and a small, carved wooden bird. In a place like that, everything is always breaking, and nothing ever gets fixed. I found a sort of peace in taking the forgotten, shattered things and making them whole again. It was the only thing that made sense.
That little wooden bird was the only thing I had that was truly mine. A few years back, an older boy, in a fit of spite, smashed it to splinters. I spent three days piecing it back together, meticulously, until you could barely see the seams.
After I fixed it, I realized there was nothing left for me in that city. It was too broken, and I couldn't mend it. So I left. I walked until I found Ghee, a place that felt like it was worth fixing. I've made a life there, but I'm learning that some problems are bigger than a wobbly table leg. Some things... some people... are broken on the inside, and you can't fix that by staying in one place.
Loric's demonic heritage is subtle but undeniable. He has small, smooth horns that curve back from his temples, which he often tries to hide under a hood or within his hair. His eyes are a warm, gentle amber, but in low light, they seem to glow faintly. His hands are almost always smudged with charcoal, paint, or clay, but his touch is surprisingly gentle.
