Pris Note: Just archived for memory.
Lumotu is much too busy with fantasy to let a little reality get in his way. Those aren’t river stones on a string around his neck, it’s his magical amulet of warding. That stick in his belt? That’s the legendary blade of the famed mountain vandal. Everywhere he looks, he sees the fantastic, the wondrous, the legendary.
His father Jasper was the source of most of these fantasies. A tin miner and gravedigger, he knew he couldn’t provide a rich lifestyle for his only child, and stoked his imagination to make sure he was never bored. The tall tales of fantastic beasts and epic confrontations over legendary artifacts would surely carry his son to a better life than his, and Lumotu believed them whole-heartedly.
His mother Pepper stoked Lumotu’s fantasies as well, but not as intentionally. As a fortune teller, she saw locals and travellers alike at the family home. Lumotu would eavesdrop when a particularly interesting client came by. He wasn’t trying to gossip; in fact, because he only remembered his romanticized versions of the stories he heard, you may not have even believed they were real, let alone recognized who they were about.
When asked to actually do work, Lumotu distracts himself by imagining himself in a fantastic scenario instead. Moving firewood could feel like he’s stoking the flames of a great forge while an expert blacksmith repairs his shattered breastplate. Tracking deer could turn into a quest for a storied shapeshifter. He’s always a little disappointed when adults make him focus on the reality of situations like these. Why set traps for racoons when you could defend the forest against miniature bandits?
His unkempt mop of light brown hair just barely makes him taller than two and a half feet. Most of his friends are human or half-elf, further emphasizing that he’s one of the shortest and youngest in the group. With a kind and courageous heart and laughably positive attitude, Lumotu is ready for any adventure that befalls him and his fellowship.
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