Character thoughts
He stands a bare 5 foot off the ground. Dressed in simple, yet durable home spun clothes, his boots sturdy and sensible for long walking, he stands at ease. A warn wooden club hangs by a thong from his belt, a large metal shield hangs from his right shoulder and a durable sack from his right. A barely audible ‘chink’ from under his shirt belies the though that all of his massive bulk is from his rough hewn muscles. His hands and face have a similar unfinished look about them, as if attached by a sculptor too distracted to round the edges or even fit the pieces on properly.
A scar runs from the outside edge of his left eye up through the eyebrow across his forehead rising as it does so to meet the hair line. A streak of while hair shows its path as the scar travels around most of his skull ending just past the midpoint on the back of his head. Another mark of less identifiable origin runs from his left cheek down under his jaw, where it passes his mouth it pulls it down into an almost permanent leer or snarl.
An air of putrescence as well as that of smoke or charring hangs about him as a veritable aura of scent.
Dash’s earliest memories are from attempting to scratch out a living for himself in the Low District of Korth. Dash is unsure of his age or when these memories are from because of what happened after. He only has the vaguest memories of being grabbed in the night and subjected to any number of unpleasant and torturous examinations (of both his body and his mind). He knows it was for a long time but has no idea how long. What he does know is that one night something terrible happened to his tormentors and during the fighting and confusion he was able to make his way out of the labyrinthine underground complex, where upon he ran for his life into the winter vastness. Whether from what was done to him or the shock of being outside in the cold Dash quickly caught fever and might have died if not for happening upon a caravan of dream-like minstrels, performers, and tinkers. As they healed his body they also healed his mind and showed to him the light possible in even the darkest words. And that he was not an instrument to be turned upon himself, but a body and soul that could be focused into manifesting his potential. He studied and traveled with them for a time as they traversed Khorvaire attempting to avoid the worst of the Great War. Eventually he left to find his own way in the world but carried with him the light of hope and the focus of their training upon his journeys.
Though lightened in spirit he could not and would not forgive those who had harmed him so, nor the country that would support such reckless and wanton investigations of the darker arts. Dash took his new found skills and found a mercenary company that promised a chance to strike back at his hated homeland.
A scar runs from the outside edge of his left eye up through the eyebrow across his forehead rising as it does so to meet the hair line. A streak of while hair shows its path as the scar travels around most of his skull ending just past the midpoint on the back of his head. Another mark of less identifiable origin runs from his left cheek down under his jaw, where it passes his mouth it pulls it down into an almost permanent leer or snarl.
An air of putrescence as well as that of smoke or charring hangs about him as a veritable aura of scent.
Dash’s earliest memories are from attempting to scratch out a living for himself in the Low District of Korth. Dash is unsure of his age or when these memories are from because of what happened after. He only has the vaguest memories of being grabbed in the night and subjected to any number of unpleasant and torturous examinations (of both his body and his mind). He knows it was for a long time but has no idea how long. What he does know is that one night something terrible happened to his tormentors and during the fighting and confusion he was able to make his way out of the labyrinthine underground complex, where upon he ran for his life into the winter vastness. Whether from what was done to him or the shock of being outside in the cold Dash quickly caught fever and might have died if not for happening upon a caravan of dream-like minstrels, performers, and tinkers. As they healed his body they also healed his mind and showed to him the light possible in even the darkest words. And that he was not an instrument to be turned upon himself, but a body and soul that could be focused into manifesting his potential. He studied and traveled with them for a time as they traversed Khorvaire attempting to avoid the worst of the Great War. Eventually he left to find his own way in the world but carried with him the light of hope and the focus of their training upon his journeys.
Though lightened in spirit he could not and would not forgive those who had harmed him so, nor the country that would support such reckless and wanton investigations of the darker arts. Dash took his new found skills and found a mercenary company that promised a chance to strike back at his hated homeland.