Averill Rooks

Averill Rooks
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Gender	Male
Race	Hyur
Clan	Midlander
Citizenship	None

Summary

Beholden to no cause, no coin, no city-state, the scrimshander Averill is rarely found in the same place twice. Whispers of a life before his infamy on the road linger like ill winds.

Typically calm, collected, and irrepressibly curious, he can be found travelling alone or with companions, albeit rarely. Those that chance to meet him find a storied soul, seared with scars. Those that seek the vagrant out learn well, and quickly, of the strength that survived those wounds.

Inventory

Below is a small table of items visible or readily noticeable on Averill's person. Feel free to use them as hooks!

ITEM	DESCRIPTION	Hollow Bone Blade	A tiny blade hewed from the corpse of something lost to the haze of ancient memory. Intricately detailed, this fragile blade is both the mark and primary tool of those ancient carvers of souls and bone, the scrimshanders. Few survive in usable condition - fewer still know how to make the hollow bone cut deep. The designs stir primal, unsettling emotions in those who hold it, as if instinct recalls the reason this arte was forgotten.
Carven Eye	Small pebbles. Silky, smooth, and wholly unremarkable until carved. Intricate patterns line the skin of the stone, like veins under flesh. When breathed upon, the carving takes a sliver of the user's aether, filling with colour and reflecting the core traits of their soul. A decidedly harmless application of scrimshaw, but telling of its intimate link to the body and mind both.
Dyrnwyn	A huge axe, as tall as the one who bears it, bound in thick white cloth - almost like bandages. Save to sleep, Dyrnwyn rarely leaves Averill's back, though he makes plain his intent not to draw it, favouring other weapons even whilst he bears such a crippling weight. The binding is wrapped tight, revealing its shape, but its origins and abilities are the deeper mystery.

Traits

Some of Averill's more noticeable features. Again, use these for hooks!

ITEM	DESCRIPTION
Blind in One Eye	The most severe of Averill's scarring favours his left side. The tell-tale marks of repeated blade cuts bite deep into his chest and face, leaving his eye a mangled, useless pearl. For most, it would be a crippling disability. For Averill, it is a reminder to get closer - and swing harder.
Mangled Body	Common parlance describes scars as lessons hard-earned. A thousand of these twist and turn about Averill. carving swathes and biting deep into his body. Suffered all at once, there may not be much left of the Midlander to recognise. Fortunately, the road of experience is long, and he has travelled it for longer still.
Scrimshander	Less a habit, more of a ritual. With hollow bone blade in hand, strangers might see the vagrant carving all manner of things as he sits idle. The whittler carves trinkets - the carpenter carves tools. What, then, does the scrimshander carve?
Twisted Aether	Mages reckon well the shifting tides of the soul. Aether is their domain, and for spellcraft the balances are tipped with the utmost of care and precision. Small wonder then that all but the most trained eyes turn from staring too deeply into Averill's aether. A vortex of corruption roils just beneath the road-weathered surface, causing most to shrink, unnerved or disgusted. When one sees a storm on the horizon, one typically seeks shelter.