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 Jorge Cervantes, 51 | Townie | Thoth
Jorge Cervantes
 Posted: Dec 12 2017, 04:50 PM

birth date
Literature Professor (Part-Time) / Writer-Poet
Single (Widower)


Jorge is a pretty average looking man. Standing at about 6’1, with a light, caramel-hued skin tone, he does cut an imposing image. Though he once possessed the physique of a football star, Jorge body is a bit thinner, but still strong nonetheless. His hair is usually cut short, dark in color but peppered with speckles of silver. This graying is more noticeable in the scratchy looking beard and and mustache the man sports.

Clothing wise, Jorge prefers to be comfortable, usually in jeans, buttoned shirts, and coats. For special occasions, such as readings, appearances, or other events, he does have a variety of suits. Still, no matter how dashing he may look in such attire, he is a man who will always choose comfort over style.


Jorge is a complex individual. Tragedy in his life has scarred the man and this has made him a rather deep and a mystery to behold. He doesn’t warm up easily as some people think he can be a bit of a distant curmudgeon. And, for the most part, they are right. Jorge is blunt and to the point. If he doesn’t like something about you, he spares no words in telling you. Some would say that is the writer in him, because of his incessant need to find and speak the truth. But this bluntness just masks the painful truths about his past.

Jorge doesn’t like to talk about his past. He doesn’t bring it up, he doesn’t want to be questioned about it. After all, he was once fairly well-known so anyone who wants to know about it can just look it up on the Google-webs (his term). But don’t bring it up in front of him. That’s the quickest way to earn a curse from the man. However, deep down, Jorge is actually a really good man.

Under the bluntness, Jorge can be on the sweetest guys you will ever know, that is, if someone is willing to look past his hard, candy shell. At the end of the day, he wants his students to learn something and will go out of his way to ensure that. He will make time for students to help them with assignments, he puts extra care and dedication to his grading, and he will even secretly help students in need of assistance, pointing them in the right direction of help and services, and always being available should he be needed.

At the end of the day, he is just a complex man who does whatever he can to survive in the world and help spread love and appreciate for literature, a medium which, to him, is somewhat devolving in the technological age; a topic for which he is always willing to rant about.


The life of Jorge Cervantes is not for the faint of heart. That isn’t to say that it is a scary story, more so, just a tragic one. Jorge was born in 1966 to Hector and Ashley Cervantes in sunny, Long Beach, California. His father, a mechanic and his mother, a housewife, Jorge seemed born to achieve far more than his parents ever would. A handsome and sweet boy, Jorge was always fawned over by family and members of the community. He was good kid and one that grew up with an encouragement that so many children crave from their parents. As a child he was brave and sensitive, as an teenager he was strong and popular. It was the point that his meteoric fall would be all the more tragic.

At 17 years old, Jorge was on the fast track for a football scholarship that would ensure he would be the first Cervantes to enter college. It was both a burden and a blessing, but Jorge, despite his small misgivings, knew that it was something he could accomplish. But the ax fell when, before the big homecoming game, Jorge noticed his vision dim. It had been sporadic for years but on this night, the very last thing he would see was his parents’ faces when he jogged out onto the field and was then thrown into darkness.

Doctors never could figure out what it was. Some strange genetic disorder that had been dormant in his family genes until he happened to be the unlikely lottery winner. At 17 years old, Jorge Cervantes complete lost his vision and the life he was so sure was being laid out for him. But, as they say, life always finds a way.

Jorge went on for years after this, adapting to his new life. Though his parents were still proud of him, Jorge could feel the shift in his relationship with them. He felt like he was a burden, even though they had never attempted to make him feel that way. So a bitterness began to grow in the pit of his stomach, an anger at the sudden turn his life had taken. Jorge slipped into drinking, agonized to remember the sights and colors of his youth, Jorge would have died by his own hand if it weren’t for his father. The man never let up, never let Jorge feel sorry for himself, and eventually his lessons managed to get through to him.

It took time but eventually he returned to the straight and narrow. Though his blindness was an imposition to him, Jorge vowed he wasn’t going to let it weigh him down any further. He would find a new path through the darkness; and he did…with writing.

In college, Jorge focused on his second passion besides sports – writing. Jorge had been a voracious reader and college only continued to churn that fire in his heart. Chaucer, Spenser, Austen, Jorge lost himself amidst those words that pierced through the blackness in a way that nothing else could. Jorge dedicated his life to the written word until he found that he had a talent as well.

It was just a stupid hobby at first. Jorge would record his voice, come up with poetry on the fly, even a time or two had a friend write his words for him. However, eventually Jorge would show these works to his professors, all of whom agreed that his voice was one that he should eventually share. It took years, but by the time Jorge was 25 he had published his first book of poetry, “Lightning Cracks the Sky” and his fame steadily began to grow. That was also the year that he would meet the love of his life, Gemma.

Gemma was a lovely woman, an assistant for the publisher of his book. The first time that they had met, she was singing in the copy room of the publisher. Jorge had stumbled upon her, apparently having been given the wrong directions to find his publisher’s office. The two quickly struck up a conversation and a romance quickly followed. It would be a love that Jorge would never forget, even after she died.

Jorge and Gemma had several good years together. They loved, they laughed, they lived, but tragedy would revisit them soon enough. While Jorge was away on tour with his latest book of poetry, “The Bronze Dragon, and other poems”, Jorge received the worst news that he could have. The apartment complex that they had lived in had apparently been the victim of arson. Five souls were lost, including his wife, Gemma, and his 2 year old daughter, Maya. And just as quickly as before, Jorge became swallowed by the dark.

It took years for Jorge before he would function again. His father, Hector, helped him as best his could, but this tragedy was a hard one to live with. Jorge drew back from society, from friends, from family, and started to delve into the bottle again. But with time and patience from his father, eventually Jorge’s wounds began to heal. Though he would always carry his scars, Jorge knew he still had a life to live, a life that Gemma wouldn’t want him to waste.

“Silver Dollar” was the last book of poetry that Jorge managed to publish. After he did, Jorge sought a quiet and simple life, far away from the city and memories that were attached to people whom he had loved and lost. That was how Jorge eventually settled in Lochland Grove.

Needing to get away from the world, Jorge took his earnings and settled in the quiet town that was shrouded by mystery. However, unable to live on royalties alone, Jorge eventually applied as a part-time English professor for the local community college. That, mixed with his royalties, served as enough of a balance to sustain a livelihood.

For the last five years, Jorge has lived in Lochland Grove, slowly returning to the individual he used to be and enjoying the calm and quiet. Every once and awhile, someone recognizes him or the town asks him to speak at events, but for the most part, Jorge is left alone. And he likes it that way.



  • Books: It shouldn’t surprise anyone, but Jorge is an avid book lover. He has read most of the classics and while literature is open to interpretation, he has his own beliefs about them and is always eager to hear what others think.
  • Rain: The smell of rain is absolutely amazing to him. There are times where the creative man shines through again and he stand out in the ran, feeling it fall against his face. Truly it can be an awe-inspiring experience.
  • Sarcasm: Jorge is blunt and quite sarcastic. It is his way of being humorous, really not thinking there being any need to mince words. Some now experienced with the man may take offense, but others would find his delightful.
  • Music: His wife turned him into music, especially the classics, such as Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, and Dean Martin. He does have an ear for more modern music, but nothing will change his love for the absolute classics.
  • Poetry: As his passion for books should be expected, so should his passion for poetry. Though rare, he does still love to compose from time-to-time, but most of all, he does love discussing poetry with those who are willing to actually listen to him. Same goes for his own poetry, if you’ve read his books and want to discuss, be prepared for a lively debate.


  • Stubbornness: He doesn’t like it when people won’t admit to being wrong; especially when he is right. He is ready and willing to argue to prove his point. However it shouldn’t escape some that while Jorge dislike stubbornness in others, he doesn’t always see the same trait in himself.
  • Laziness: This comes from teaching. Jorge doesn’t like it when his students pretty much sabotage themselves. They are constantly late or are told deadlines over and over again and still fail to turn in a paper on time. And when it comes for “extra credit”, don’t even bother asking. If you just do the work, you won’t need it.
  • Prejudices: The world is a scary place, full of people who feel it is there right to spew as many hateful words about people as they can. Jorge doesn’t stand for any of it. Despite the fact that he isn’t the cuddliest of people, he still won’t accept anyone who takes part in such hate mongering.
  • Nosiness: Sometimes people ask too many personal questions. He doesn’t like that, and it’s a surefire way to either fail his class or have him ignore you from here on out.
  • Bananas: Something about the texture. It’s utterly disgusting...really.


  • Published Books: Jorge has three published books of poetry titled: “Lightning Cracks the Sky”, “The Bronze Dragon; and other poems”, and “Silver Dollar”.
  • Emma: Jorge is usually always accompanied by his seeing-eye dog, Emma. She is a golden retriever and, while she is up there in age, she is very spry and loveable.
  • Singing: His late wife often encouraged him to sing, always claiming that he had an excellent singing voice. Jorge doesn’t like to brag about this aspect of himself, but anyone catching him singing absentmindedly to himself can attest that he does have an amazing voice.
  • Bisexual: In his time dating before he met his wife, Jorge dated both men and women and possess an attraction to both.


Gemma Cervantes: Wife -- Deceased

Maya Cervantes: Daughter -- Deceased

Ashley Cervantes: Mother -- Deceased

Hector Cervantes: Father -- Alive

Wendy Jaskolski: Ex-Sister-in-Law -- Alive

© darren criss


Jorge sniffled as he sat up in bed, reaching for a box of tissue that had been left on his bedside table. For the past day or so, Jorge had felt the oncoming of something wrong. He had felt sluggish and there was a scratchiness at the back of his throat. At most the blind poet had figured it was nothing more than allergies caused by the changing of the season. It was a simple matter and all he would have to do was wait it out. Some passion fruit tea and a few showers and he should be just fine.

It was strange how quickly that had changed when he woke up this morning. This morning the man had actually prayed for death.

Ugh, it was just terrible. The sneezing, the sore throat, the chills, it was enough where the man didn’t want to do anything but stay in bed and hope that he would melt into a puddle ooze that would be taken swiftly into the afterlife. Even Emma, his guide dog, his caring golden retriever sat by his bedside and whimpered softly to him.

One eye peeked open, sleepily, and Jorge reached down, his hand resting on the poor creature’s head as he scratched behind her ear, letting her know that he wasn’t dead just yet. Death was just a passing fancy right now. Honestly the man was too ornery for even Death to take him away right now. If the Reaper had decided to come by, the blind poet would have surely beaten and struck him, even in his sickened state until he was left alone. After all, he didn’t care for company when he was in good health, and therefore sickness only made his attitude all that more “lovely”.

”Bleh, too warm in here,” he grumbled as he pulled his soft, gray sheets off his body.
Sitting up, slowly, the man shifted his legs over the edge, using the momentum to help him sit upward. His body protested at the movement, causing an ache to roll throughout his tired bones. He was dressed in simply in black tank top and UCLA Bruins sweatpants. Setting his socked feet onto the floor, Emma immediately got up and stood by his side. Feeling the warmth of her fur near his leg, Jorge gave his faithful friend the softest of smiles before he patted her head against and stood up with a groan. It had been a long time since he had feel like shit twice warmed over.

A chill ripped through his body again and the man sighed, which lead into a small fit of coughing. It was a good thing he had plenty of sick time earned; he would have hated to attempt to teach in this condition. Here he forced himself to stand. He needed water and knew that he had drank the last that he had left himself at his bedside table earlier this morning. It was time for a fresh bottle.
The blind poet moved easily through his apartment. Everything was in its place and remained there. It was sparsely decorated, with only the essential present, including a soft couch and wooden table in the kitchenette. Mostly, though, the living room and bedrooms were filled with bookshelves, both printed and braille editions. The man had a deep love of literature, as was evident by the three diplomas (A.A. in Literature, B.A. in Literature, and M.A. in British Literature) in that hung over an old-fashioned writing desk in the living room. This was the home of an avid book lover and, even though his vision was taken from him, that didn’t stop him from pursuing his passions. Of course, right now, his passion only consisted of getting a bottle of water.

He moved expertly through his apartment. Emma, faithfully at his side, kept him on the clear, nudging him only when he got too close to something he may bump into. Though Jorge knew how to navigate his own home, it was clear that sickness was making him a bit wobbly, but he managed. Eventually the man found himself in front of his fridge. He pulled it open, reached in and quickly found his target. A bottle of water in hand, Jorge sighed as he pressed it to his cheek and closed the door. Maybe death really wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Lochland Grove Admins
 Posted: Dec 12 2017, 05:49 PM
The Admins


    Welcome to Lochland Grove. It looks like you've made a fantastic app. We look forward to seeing your character in play here on the site. Before you get started roleplaying, make sure to fill out your claims, and put up a plot page. We hope you have fun on Lochland Grove, and remember, keep your eyes open.

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