Rachel Rider
Smol Turtle Girl
Name: Viriola (Short: Viri)
Gender: Female
Appearance: Wearing a man's tunic(knee length) and keeping her copper red hair short, you could easily mistake her for a male when looking at her head on or from behind, her body somewhat toned, though with more strength in her arms, though her chest does ruin the illusion. Her hands are a strange mixture of course and soft, showing both the wearing by dirt rocks and roots and the smoothed texture from being soaking in oil and working with wool fabric and thread. Skin pale like most Gauls, a small nose, fierce hazel eyes with hints of green, she seems self-contradicting, beautiful yet fierce and unattainable.
Age: 18
Where is your character from Gaul (Central Modern day France)
Reason for enslavement: Captured by invading legions
Military training: None
Abilities: Basic Knowledge of herbs and edible food as well as natural poisons, and expertise in weaving, cloth, sewing, and leatherworking.
Brief bio: When the Romans invaded Gaul, she was captured by a small scouting party as she was out gathering herbs as a druid assistant, being barely 10. From there, she was sold to an artisan family, one of weavers and leather-makers, as a household slave. Noticing that she was skilled with her hands, they started training her in the art of weaving and leather making. She soon surpassed her masters in skill, and often they would showcase her skills to friends or to the public as a spectacle. However, the family soon came into trouble when a fire destroyed most of their house, only able to save some of the looms and losing nearly all of the completed works as well as the many leather works they were working on, including a commissioned piece of a prominent military leader. Aggravated that his piece was delayed, he demanded a refund, which the family was unable to pay. Taking it into court, the family decided to sell Viriola to pay off the debt. A slave merchant bought her, selling her to the farming estate.
Gender: Female
Appearance: Wearing a man's tunic(knee length) and keeping her copper red hair short, you could easily mistake her for a male when looking at her head on or from behind, her body somewhat toned, though with more strength in her arms, though her chest does ruin the illusion. Her hands are a strange mixture of course and soft, showing both the wearing by dirt rocks and roots and the smoothed texture from being soaking in oil and working with wool fabric and thread. Skin pale like most Gauls, a small nose, fierce hazel eyes with hints of green, she seems self-contradicting, beautiful yet fierce and unattainable.
Age: 18
Where is your character from Gaul (Central Modern day France)
Reason for enslavement: Captured by invading legions
Military training: None
Abilities: Basic Knowledge of herbs and edible food as well as natural poisons, and expertise in weaving, cloth, sewing, and leatherworking.
Brief bio: When the Romans invaded Gaul, she was captured by a small scouting party as she was out gathering herbs as a druid assistant, being barely 10. From there, she was sold to an artisan family, one of weavers and leather-makers, as a household slave. Noticing that she was skilled with her hands, they started training her in the art of weaving and leather making. She soon surpassed her masters in skill, and often they would showcase her skills to friends or to the public as a spectacle. However, the family soon came into trouble when a fire destroyed most of their house, only able to save some of the looms and losing nearly all of the completed works as well as the many leather works they were working on, including a commissioned piece of a prominent military leader. Aggravated that his piece was delayed, he demanded a refund, which the family was unable to pay. Taking it into court, the family decided to sell Viriola to pay off the debt. A slave merchant bought her, selling her to the farming estate.
Viriola whispered a roman rhyme under her breath, twidling with the loose threads of her torn and dirty tunic. She honestly just wished that these people would get over with the whipping and just let them into the fields, let her hands get lost in work and mind wandering through fantasies of escape that would vanish with the call to return to their quarters. Right now the truth was too close, too real. But, right now she may as well try to assess her fellow slaves.
The soft-spoken medicine woman seemed a kind soul, though this world tended to crush those. The other Gaelic woman was more reserved, probably a veteran slave. The man with the temper and now a flogged hide seemed to be a fighter, most likely a roman turned slave. Another, the whispering man, he said he was from the north, and he seemed too talkative for his own good. And, of course, there was the strange tanned man, a mystery to her. She had rarely seen people so tan, it looked like his skin had been bronzed by fire. The other seemed to be the normal fare, weeping debt slaves, stone-faced prisoner slaves, all quiet with fear or intelligence.
As for herself, she found herself longing for a loom, for her previous masters. These were unfamiliar ones, cruel and masked by anonymity. Though she had her fair share of beatings and punishments, those were people whose name she knew, and whose character was shown. They were revealed as cowards, but these were concealed by their ruthlessness. The best thing to do would be to keep her head down. But she still surveyed the room, watching and listening for any commands.