Wistric Willoughby
New member
Wistric Willoughby
| Age 26 |
| Gender Male |
| Origin Human from Altalusia |
| Occupation Spell Collector |
I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry; But where's that wiseman, that would not be I, If she would not deny? Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away, I thought, if I could draw my pains Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay. Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.
But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when 'tis read.
Both are increased by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three;
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
"The Triple Fool" John Donne
Appearance
| Height 6'2 |
| Build Lean, lithe, and with some width in shoulders |
| Hair Black |
| Eyes Gold |
Handsome
Personality
Wistric Willoughby is both a fool and a genius, and thus a disappointment to his family.
The Willoughbys had prided themselves on their family history, particularly a great-great-great-great-great-grandma of Wistric's: Writi, who escaped from the Arshakan Empire's Brahman Magisterium. Despite being hunted, she found safety in Altalusia, building a life for herself with nothing to her name but the knowledge in her head. Writi would find love with a poor merchant with little business sense, Arthur Willoughby, the bastard son of a noble family.
Wistric knows all the stories of Writi, a true legend not just within his lineage but in the teaching of weaving itself. Writi was a genius, understanding spells to be used for more than war, and spent time crafting spells that weren't only offensive or defensive. The family grew as a merchant family that could sell spells for any occasion: to stop the rain on a wedding day, to get herd animals to be more agreeable, to have a cat stop scratching the furniture, and even to help put a baby to sleep.
The Willoughbys had been known as leaders of weaving innovation, selling charms to help bring about a lover or to help focus on a test or big project at work. They created wards for others to buy to know when their home was getting broken into if they had too friendly of a dog and were too heavy of a sleeper. Each generation would compile a spellbook filled with their greatest spells, updating each edition before letting their most capable child take on the pressure in staying true to Writi's vision.
Such a shame that Wistric's eldest brother, also a genius, went on a sabbatical to then never return. His absence was treated as a death in the family, though no body was ever found, and somehow that was what made it all worse because it seemed all of Wistric's spells of locating a loved one's body continued to fail. But there wasn't much time to grieve; whatever his brother had been writing for his seventh edition of Writi Willoughby's Shroudweaving for Every Occasion was now lost.
The pressure was now on Wistric's shoulders, a poor replacement for his brother. Great-great-great-great-great-grandma Writi would have looked at him with a frown. Wistric might have been labeled a genius by all his tutors, but he was horrible at understanding people. It wasn't that he lacked empathy, but he seemed rather dense when it came to what people wanted or tried to convey. He much preferred his books and the fantastical adventures he created in his head than to try talking to others.
Then again, he did talk to someone: his pet cat, Ayla. Only she knows anything about the inner workings of Wistric's mind, and only she knows why he had abruptly set off to study around the world in search of spells to put into the seventh edition.
The Willoughbys had prided themselves on their family history, particularly a great-great-great-great-great-grandma of Wistric's: Writi, who escaped from the Arshakan Empire's Brahman Magisterium. Despite being hunted, she found safety in Altalusia, building a life for herself with nothing to her name but the knowledge in her head. Writi would find love with a poor merchant with little business sense, Arthur Willoughby, the bastard son of a noble family.
Wistric knows all the stories of Writi, a true legend not just within his lineage but in the teaching of weaving itself. Writi was a genius, understanding spells to be used for more than war, and spent time crafting spells that weren't only offensive or defensive. The family grew as a merchant family that could sell spells for any occasion: to stop the rain on a wedding day, to get herd animals to be more agreeable, to have a cat stop scratching the furniture, and even to help put a baby to sleep.
The Willoughbys had been known as leaders of weaving innovation, selling charms to help bring about a lover or to help focus on a test or big project at work. They created wards for others to buy to know when their home was getting broken into if they had too friendly of a dog and were too heavy of a sleeper. Each generation would compile a spellbook filled with their greatest spells, updating each edition before letting their most capable child take on the pressure in staying true to Writi's vision.
Such a shame that Wistric's eldest brother, also a genius, went on a sabbatical to then never return. His absence was treated as a death in the family, though no body was ever found, and somehow that was what made it all worse because it seemed all of Wistric's spells of locating a loved one's body continued to fail. But there wasn't much time to grieve; whatever his brother had been writing for his seventh edition of Writi Willoughby's Shroudweaving for Every Occasion was now lost.
The pressure was now on Wistric's shoulders, a poor replacement for his brother. Great-great-great-great-great-grandma Writi would have looked at him with a frown. Wistric might have been labeled a genius by all his tutors, but he was horrible at understanding people. It wasn't that he lacked empathy, but he seemed rather dense when it came to what people wanted or tried to convey. He much preferred his books and the fantastical adventures he created in his head than to try talking to others.
Then again, he did talk to someone: his pet cat, Ayla. Only she knows anything about the inner workings of Wistric's mind, and only she knows why he had abruptly set off to study around the world in search of spells to put into the seventh edition.
Skills
- Shroudweaving since a young age, Wistric has spent more time with tutors than with children his own age.
- Literate and well-read.
- Etiquette is pretty self-explanatory; expect him to know which spoon to use with each course.
- Fashionable, at least, Wistric thinks so. He has created a series of spells to curate to his refined taste and thinks it only right to use magic to ensure his clothes are clean, blemish-free, and wrinkle-free as if he'd ever wash his clothes the usual way.
Art Credit: https://www.redspring.studio/
