|
Donate Premium Time to this person:
|
|
|
|
|
Damien stands solid at just over six feet tall and topping the scales at about fourteen or fifteen stone. He hasn't the time or the interest to maintain his appearance although he keeps clean. His hair is a shoulder length dark brown with a heavy dusting of gray - tied back in a loose ponytail with a bracelet of woven herbs and tiny flowers. He appears slightly older than his thirty summers. He only shaves when his face tells him to with an incessant itchy sensation. This growth of a few days also serves to hide the slight scar that resides on his left cheek which tends to show brighter when he pales or becomes agitated.
His armor is mismatched, albeit well cared for; and his pack hangs slack over one shoulder. Whatever weapon he carries he takes the time to inscribe "As the gods will it, so shall it be" upon it in elegant script and upon his battered shield bears more writing - although a portion of it is in need of repair, "When I pray... things die."
No matter what armor and weaponry Damien may be carrying there are a few things that rarely, if ever change. Flashes of robes can be seen beneath his armor, showing the Holy Mark of Ben. Hanging down from his tangled mass of salt and pepper hair, from behind his left ear, is a pair of ink stained and sharpened quills, while attached to his belt is a pair custom bos-leather pouches. The first pouch is rectangular and somewhat thin with a brass buckle securing a flap folded over. Looking closely at the pouch, one can tell that some writing was pressed into it. The second pouch is fitted to a squat bottle with a rare screw on brass top that is attached to the bottle with a small bar to keep it from getting lost.
*URL*
|
|
