by Thaedael » Fri Jun 01, 2012 1:47 am
Things to include:
How you were created:
A floating sensation. From a bird's eye view a scene was displayed, a young woman in a workshop. Scattered around the room were diagrams of all sorts, the tools of a trade unknown to the average person. Drip. Across the beaten oak table, scattered along the worm eaten wood, laid an assortment of beautiful fabrics, glowing a deep blue. Drip. Across the walls, diagrams of the human body, all the modes of locomotion circled and drawn out in green. Drip. The view shifted slowly, becoming more aware of it's existence. <<Where am I?>> it thought to itself, floating amongst the clutter of the workshop. Atop a fine copper table rest a diamond tool, fragments of emeralds catching the blue light emanating from the cloth. Drip. The sound was maddening, the self conscious thought dove slowly towards it. Sitting over the table was a beautiful girl, long red hair tied back away from her face. Her form slumped over the table, arms resting on a leather pad. Curiously the sentience drew closer to the woman <<Who are you?>> it thought to itself, before losing control and diving towards her.
The sentience became conscience once more, before opening it's eyes. The woman seen before rested over the conscious thought given form. From this vantage point two long arms went up into her torso, ending in grievous wounds. "Don't be afraid little one" the women said, a stream of blood flowing from her lip. "It is I who have given you form. From my hands you were made, your essence made in my image." she coughed a little bit, not much longer for this world. "Listen, you were created by me, your form carved from the emeralds found in this lands. Be proud for you are the pride of our soul, the pride of our work. From the land of Moussilon you were made. The finest of fabrics were sown around your emerald core, may it forever keep your soul warm, and your body safe." She coughed once more, before clearing her throat of the blood. "A-top this you were made in our image, to forever be our embodiment. Your clothing from our land." she sighed one last time before speaking. "By my hand you were created and born, by yours I will die. These lands have be ruined, our city smashed, the lords have brought this to us. Live free and tell the tale of Mousillon once more." she slumped forward, the last of her blood dripping to the floor. The conscience screamed, brought into the world at the murder of it's creator.
Where you're from, the setting is like medieval steampunk with necromancers and magicians.
Moussilon was a marshland, from here some of the finest clothes were woven from the silks of caterpillars found in wet and humid lands. It was famous for providing gases from the marshes, as well as pitch and gemstones, emerald having been the largest source of it's riches. A land of culture and arts, reduced to the smoldering ruins of a city at the command of the lords.
Why you were created and what you do now.
To tell stories of the land. However spends most of the time silently floating above the marshes, going from ruin to ruin and learning all there was about the culture that had fallen. Often confused as a will-o-wisp.
If your creator is alive, dead, or otherwise incapacitated.
See above.