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Name: Ranok

Carrying no surname worth the mentioning, his home will suffice for now.

Age: Seems to be somewhere in his forties, though his experience seems to outstrip his physical age.

Skin worn and weathered from time immemorial in sun and wind. The hardships of life are etched onto his face.

Hair: Salt and pepper. More black then gray hairs.

Cut short, a constant mess from hat, wind, and hand.

Eyes: Gray.

Prone to flickering their hue as his mood shifts to match.

Height: Seems to be about seven feet tall.

Big in size, stature, and attitude.

Occupation: Blacksmith. Inventor. Clockwork mechanic. Runesmith

Former soldier. Demolitionist. Professionally ruthless and a snarky workman.

Markings: A long and white scar runs across his face, from left temple to right jawbone. A closely cut full beard graces his face. A pair of fuzzy timber wolf ears, alert to sounds.

Not much of a looker in the first place; there was little to lose. Also, he doesn't like to talk about it.

Modifications: His left arm, from the shoulder down, is now replaced with a mechanical one after its loss in a battle. An example of fine craftsmanship. Ornate, deft but sturdy, carrying a number of surprises tucked inside.

Only he would claim the flesh is inferior to the steel.

Garb: Wears armor, all in bone white. His upper torso is covered in plate, with flexible plates adorning his abdomen. Tough plates cover upper arms and thighs. Boots with a number of interesting additions swathe his feet. Ghroundium underweave covers the rest.

A duster swaths his frame, every bit as worn and scarred as the man that wears it. Prone to billowing the wind, its pockets carry an assortment of a little bit of everything. He's got the whole damn world in his pockets. This one is made of the skin of a blue dragon, tough enough to keep up with his lifestyle. Host of frequent repairs and patches, it nevertheless is as well cared for as can be in the circumstances.

A long brimmed black leather suede hat sits on his head. The most mundane of his attire, he'd claim it to be the most important. Tucked into its band is a few feathers from exotic birds encountered on Rynvale.

Three lights follow him at times, each electric blue and pulsing with the ebb and flow of energy. They're watchful and intelligent, though their true nature goes beyond the simple representation the lights present. Most often dormant and relegated to mere star specks, they brighten when in the presence of something interesting.

A simple looking sword hangs at his waist. With a grip made of steel, the rest is otherwise black. Etched in runes, a command can tell the weapon to shift into any number of simple shapes. While a variable tool, it possess nothing other then a sharp edge and Ranok's creativity.