Server:Feathermoon US/Dracarys

=Dracarys=

General Notes

 * If it is female and beautiful he will flirt with it.
 * If it is intoxicating he will drown himself in it.
 * If has a pulse, he will kill it... okay, maybe it doesn't need a pulse.

Unusual Notes

 * Speaks in the third.
 * A graceful lurch to his movements and mannerisms.
 * A fondness for robes and wizard hats.
 * White roses; his trademark, known to be found in assassinations instrumented by him or, more commonly, gifted to women.

Job/Profession
Formerly an herbalist for practicality and recently a tailor for vanity, due to his lifestyle he has always been and always will be, an alchemist. Other jobs and professions have been dependant on his payment and sobriety, though he is often influencing current events as the catspaw of Mennet Carkad and Carolyn Ward of the Undercity.

Physical Description
Dracarys would say that he is short, not quite reaching that six foot mark to bring him into the realm of "tall" but close to it. A little bulkier than the word 'svelte' would suggest, yet that is still the best word to describe his athletic build. The skin of his lower jaw has rotted to a dark ashy hue while taking on a worn leathery texture, however he has learned to work with it and treats it no differently than one would treat facial hair. It has a similar effect on his speech and facial mannerisms; that is to say, none at all, though when in moments of thought he strokes his chin like a man accustomed to having a goatee there. His skin is marked by countless lascerations from both life and undeath which have become a smooth texture of scar tissue to nearly replace the naturally smooth texture he started with. His head is bald, with the exception of a tail that grows from the rear crown. Why that is there is known only to him.

His dress is... peculiar. While one will most often see him wearing above average leathers, it is not uncommon to see him wearing... cloth. More specifically, a robe and wizard hat. Of these he sports a carefree blue, a regal purple and on rare occasion; firey red and alabaster embossed with gold and topped off not by a wizard hat, but by a hat of crimson felt.

Every single one of his movements can be characterized by the words... graceful lurch. This may or may not coincide with the fact that he constantly smells of booze; Cherry Grog and Bourbon in particular. With that scent comes the stench of blood, counteracted only by the perfumes of what used to be other women yet in recent months has become one woman in particular.

Personality Description
Charmingly delerious, or delightfully odd. Dracarys speaks of himself in the third person however, you will never hear him say his name unless it is in introduction. He speaks as a noble would, often with words that a noble would most certainly not. A wicked wit and a polished tongue lend to him being very fond of compliments and flattery or mockery and snide commentary of his surroundings should his knack for timing be spot on. He tends to find most contentment with stunning shy women in to embarassed speechlessness, or tenaciously tilting with tongues as tactically talented as his... and then stunning those women into a blushing silence too.

More often than not he is very light hearted, fond of laughter and sharing his liquor and listening to the stories of those he encounters. With this prefernce of observation and listening, and skills carried over from his more unsavory endeavers, Dracarys is quite remarkable at reading people. However, while done passively through habits carried over from said unsavory endeavors, he really only does it actively when he wants something or is trying to protect himself from someone he distrusts; that is to say unsurprisingly, everyone.

Meticulous to a fault where the dishonestly seen hands of combat and truthfully unseen hands politics are concerned, he almost becomes a different person. Or perhaps it is during those times that the glint of light in his eyeless sockets give way to the abyss of darkness there and the lessons learned over the centuries, taught to him in his short span of life and unlife, that reside in his mind.

History
Without going into much detail (mostly because said detail doesn't really exist), Dracarys was raised from birth to do exactly what he does best; influence politics by being a leader's left hand. Seeing something he was not supposed to, his eyes were removed with a red hot poker. Outcast and exiled from the kingdom he had been a primary instrument in shaping and safeguarding, he lived his last few years alone with the white kitten Rose and the black worg pup Solitaire... and then the Scourge came.

Plucked by the Legion and regifted with sight through unseen eyes so that he may be inserted back into the hierarchy of mortal men, the vast majority of his soul was then torn in another direction... the Forsaken. Unsurprisingly enough, his duties have not changed, only his allegiances. Despite his defiant and free spirited nature, he is forever a servant to those forces much more powerful than him.

Secrets
Dracarys is not his name.

Thoughts on the War
Dracarys couldn't really care less. He knows better than most that allegiances are hardly ever clearly defined, and as such, can sway with the tides. His priority is his loyal duty to the two that took him in after he was turned Forsaken. Just as allegiances sway, so do his continue to do so. There are times where he grows tired of the politics and "gets lost" in Stranglethorn Vale to compete as a prize fighter in Short John Mithril's bloodsport, savor the fine drinks of Nixxrax Fillamug, and spend time with faithful friend Catelyn the Blade.

Current Going On
His current location is unknown. After the recent Scourge invasion, he was sent off on a mission which he knew may very well be his last. While having utmost faith in Dracarys, Mennet and Carolyn still felt it only right to honor his last wishes. Mennet sent a letter of introduction to the most important person in Dracarys' life which featured another letter, written by him specifically to her; his last words.