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Comments
He is a human. His complexion is ashen and cold looking, with motes of green embellishing his visable skin,
clearly from extensive time in the forests. Though there is something very odd about this human. Compassion and
warmth have been drained from his features. His eyes are pure white, without emotion. A black soulstone
pendant is hung around his neck, a gift from Lord Thoth, the God of Death. He is just over 6 feet tall, and
has a broad, muscular frame. Despite his years alive, his features seem to have been frozen in time. The wry
smirk on his face imbues him with a sense of trifiling confidence. He is wearing a set of ebony robes of the Qui'anar.
Saved by the mask there :disagree:
-or-
Results of disembowel testing | Knight limb counter | GMCP AB files
Artemis says, "You are so high maintenance, Tharvis, gosh."
Tecton says, "It's still your fault, Tharvis."
That love soon might end You are unbreaking
And be known in its aching Though quaking
Shown in this shaking Though crazy
Lately of my wasteland, baby That's just wasteland, baby
Earring: This earring is a small golden chain connected to a small, but exquisitely crafted trident. Roughly an inch long, the trident has been crafted of bronze and tiny opals, and has been carefully carved to resemble the Trident of the Seas.
Pendant: A spiralling seashell of brilliant green-blue colours has been affixed to a golden chain. The shell is small, fitting in just the palm of your hand, and the colours remind you of the deep, vast seas. A faint noise emanates from the mouth of the shell, the sound of crashing waves, of mighty storms, and sometimes of calm, lapping waters. The thin chain goes through a tiny hole in the top of the shell, and is just large enough to snugly fit around a neck. Tiny letters written in the sacred tritonic tongue flow along the spirals of the shell, marking the bearer of the pendant as a true child of the seas.
Clotheses: Fine white wool hemmed with a band of bronze falls about the feminine form just short of brushing the floor, loose enough to only hint at the curves that lie beneath the milky fabric of this stola. The slit sleeves flow freely to the elbows, exposing modest glimpses of upper arm and even shoulder as the wearer moves.
This shawl of dark cyan wool is embroidered with a subtle arabesque of stylised sea grass, evoking the mesmerising beauty of the deep ocean floor. It is meant to be worn draped over the shoulders or looped over the crooks of the wearer's elbows so that the long fringe of braided bronze threads dangles in an elegant trail to the knees.
PSA - Hats suck! They pretend to be simple, but they're not!
That love soon might end You are unbreaking
And be known in its aching Though quaking
Shown in this shaking Though crazy
Lately of my wasteland, baby That's just wasteland, baby