You are Ghost Shardonnae Riddick, Butcher, a Human.
You have an oval face with pouting lips and sullenly glowing blue-white eyes. Your black hair is long and curly, and is worn in a deceptively careless-looking arrangement of upswept locks held in place by some miniature swords crafted from blued steel. You have tanned skin and a curvaceous figure.
You are tall for a Human.
You appear to be in your prime.
Your right wrist has a tattoo of a messy red splotch with the phrase "Rest In Pieces" below it.
You are wearing a padded titanese hood sealed with protective wax, a dark steel earcuff crafted to resemble a pair of broken handcuffs, a dull serpent earcuff, a heavy steel chain held together by a thick iron padlock, a shadowy spider choker with the image of a blank charger shrouded by a concealing veil etched into its abdomen, a burnished ruby amulet surrounded by a ring of polished bronze, a spun glass nightshade flower tinted the hues of darkness, a little cat carved of flawless onyx, some leather dark-lensed goggles, a sleek wolf with pure black fur, a polished gold badge stamped with "Anti-Everything!", a roughened leather locksmith's apron, a defaced cameo with a blackened silver backing, a small white crystal strung on a thin leather strap, a small white crystal strung on a thin leather strap, a neat desumos-pelt shoulder sack with gut drawstrings, a heavy wool haversack, a worn grey hitman's backpack with fraying straps, a black and white striped shirt with small tears in it, a padded titanese hauberk sealed with protective wax, a bandolier heavily covered with thick leather leaves dyed in varying shades of green and brown, a carved onyx armband adorned with a shadowy black aevanstone, a battered leather armcuff spotted with bloodstains, some peccary tusk elbow blades, a dirty studded metal targe, a hammered iron wrist knife flecked with spots of dried blood, a scintillating glass shard embraced by a twisting crystal chain, some padded titanese gloves sealed with protective wax, a cut silver friendship ring, a silver oath ring streaked with veins of red, a silver and moonstone ring, a dark leather sword belt in the shape of twin stalking panthers with lamp-black eyes, a red gem pouch, an iron lockpick ring, a dusty grey belt purse with black leather straps, a deep black sporran with a dark jade lockpick clasp, a pair of faded black and white pants, a mammoth-bone thigh quiver, a leather thigh bag heavily-beaded in cambrinth with the image of a fierce panther, a wrought iron ankle cuff marred by deep gouges, a wrought iron ankle cuff marred by deep gouges, some steel-toed footwraps, some black thigh boots with accents of blood red and a dark lacquered parry stick.
Guild "Now surely, you don't want to know that eh?"
Date of Birth 16th day of the 1st month of Akroeg the Ram in the year of the Crystal Snow Hare, 356 years after the victory of Lanival the Redeemer.
Martial Status Single, but highly uninterested
Roleplay Stance Heavy
PvP Stance Open
Quote "That's their weakness, the foolish belief that they're in control, I'll be their downfall...."
More information on weblink above.
1. Founder of Order Of The Old Code. OOTOC
2. Two Alterations Done.
A. TAP You tap a dark leather sword belt in the shape of twin stalking panthers with lamp-black eyes that you are wearing. LOOK Worked to resemble the sinuous, muscular bodies of two of the sleek felines sacred to Damaris, the pure-black leather has a matte finish that seems almost to disperse light as if falls upon it. The panthers' faces meet at the front of the belt, forming the buckle. There appears to be something written on it READ "Embrace the darkness"
B. TAP You tap a pair of faded black and white pants that you are wearing. LOOK The pants appear modified slightly as if in preparation of riots or other trouble. Wide patchwork pockets are sewn into each side of the legs but oddly enough sealed closed. The knees are frayed and torn, showing signs of violent confrontations. Bloodstained thread is haphazardly stitched into the waistband. There appears to be something written on it. READ "Nobody wants to die at Grey Raven, but everybody gets to."