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Age: 16
Race: Human
Status: Alive
Affiliation: None



The most notable thing about this normal among normals would probably be his hair: pale, sandy blonde with visible white strands, trimmed vaguely to neck length with all the skill expected of someone using nothing but a pocket knife for a barbering implement. His eyes place a close second, if one gets close enough to tell, being a humble brown just light enough to make out against his pupils. He seems to have adjusted well to being out in the sun, only bearing the faintest signs of tanning.

Lowell favors practical clothing over being fashionable and is almost never seen without a pitchfork nearby.


Lowell is generally agreeable, with a strong respect of authority. Being in the most tumultuous years for humans, he can be a bit loose with his opinions and has yet to build a strong belief system, but he has a fair grasp of right and wrong and tries to keep himself on the good side of proper. Recently formed the conviction to help those in need after an insightful conversation with Lillian, though it has become tentative since the aftermath of a particular encounter in Truce.



In what very, very little combat Lowell has been involved in, he has shown to have knowledge enough to try to disarm rather than rush in blindly. Seeing as he managed both those at the same time, however, this may simply be a case of beginner's luck.


  • Cantrips: Lowell's very minor knowledge of magic allows him to conjure small illusions, nothing more complex than a few sparks or feelings of warmth or cold. He practices from time to time, but no one's caught him casting any actual spells of yet.



Lowell is a Cleft native, hailing from the small farming town of Tonoe. He spent much of his early life there, raised by a fairly well-off ranch family who intended to teach him in their given trade. A pretty normal childhood, to say the least. When he wasn't being taught how to bale hay by hand or tidying up the ranch's checkbooks, however, he would slip off to the middle of town and get some words in with some of the myriad travelers passing through. Tales of strange beasts, fantastic events, and all the wonders of the world piqued his imagination, sprouting the first inkling of wanderlust in the humble farmhand.

It was this exciting, varied interaction that would ultimately get him out of the village -- following an explanation to the folks, of course -- and on his way to Truce. With little more than a handful of food, the clothes on his back, and his trusted pitchfork, the young adventurer strode out to find his place in the world.

He immediately got himself hired on a farm.

Recent Activity

Currently, Lowell is tending to a small farm plot south of Truce part-time for Prometheus, as repayment for the latter's kindness to a tired, thirsty kid who had marched up from Coronar almost non-stop. While he still sees to this duty, it's been placed on temporary hiatus seeing as he's also currently resting at Selan's clinic in Truce.

On a routine visit to the city to sell crops, he picked up a ticket to a Halloween party along with some very conflicting thoughts on the prudence of saving the damsel in distress, courtesy of Sweetie Pie and Vava. Incidentally, he missed that party on account of losing track of time.

On another routine visit, this time to look for new and interesting seeds to plant, Lowell had a rather traumatic experience in a particular cave. In this case, "traumatic" should be read as "near-fatal"; intending to sneak in and decide whether to report what or whoever was in the place to the guards back in Truce, Lowell followed an obvious lure and was drafted as a test subject in a barbaric experiment involving various creatures of the canyon driven mad with rage. He managed to escape by means yet unknown, as every attempt made thus far to explain the situation to himself or others has devolved into shaking and incoherent rambling.