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Introduction A breathless Midlander stalking the length of Eorzea, from Thanalan to the far reaches of Dravania. With a giant axe on his back and fell magics wrapped about him, his grim artes and savagery on the battlefield are coupled with an earnest passivity and a reluctance to join in the violent affairs of other people. Keeping to himself and his closest friends, he strives to maintain the delicate balance between the humanity that others hold so easily, and the barbarism that snaps desperately at his heel.
Quirks
- ● Enduring - The light of youth is almost spent, but his eyes have weathered the harshest roads.
- ● Agile - He is the fell gale of the battlefield, fast despite the burdens that anchor him.
- ● Hound's Loyalty - Pity those who stand against the souls he cares for. A hound's bite is easily the fiercest.
- ● Honest - There is no need to trust the man who never lies. Ware only when he attempts deception.
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- ● Bloodthirsty - The first to draw his blade. The last to leave the massacre.
- ● Bound - Good men have no need for rules. Averill binds himself to a new one nigh-daily.
- ● Rancorous - Hackles raised, fangs bared. This hound's tail is easily stepped on.
- ● Reticent - Averill speaks neither well, nor easily, when thoughts turn to him. His attention would gladly settle anywhere else.
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Traits
- ● Breathless - Sputtering, coughing, clearing his throat, speaking hoarsely or not at all - signs of a man whose lungs struggle for the air he rasps for.
- ● Sickened Soul - To the aether-sensitive or the practised mage, his blight is clear to see. Even Hydaelyn makes known her discontent with his affliction.
- ● Storm's Frenzy - The onset of battle brings the worst of Averill's nature to bear. Neither restraint nor mercy come easily to the Ravager.
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Inventory & Equipment
- ● Dyrnwyn
- An enormous greataxe forged from precious metals. Its blade shines purest white, but Averill binds her in thick cloth, like bandages.
- Comfortably wielded in one hand or two, Averill named it for a blade of eld, strong enough that it could pass judgement on those who sought its strength.
- ● Ghast of the Spine
- A featureless mask carved from the scutes of some deep-dwelling horror in Abalathia's Spine. Stained red from the viscera that clung to it.
- Donning the mask and inhaling its scent allows one to slip away from the shackles of civility, drawn back to the frenzied haze that helps one survive harrowing depths, where even the wind will not breathe.
- ● Shackled Garb
- Garb of Rooks, the rasping savage of Eorzea.
- Bound in thick oilskins and light plate, this worn armor afforded him decent protection without sacrificing his preternatural agility. The leathers are dyed rolanberry red, the colour of that hardiest of fruits thriving in the tainted wasteland of Mor Dhona.
- Since its acquisition, the clothes have seen countless patchwork repairs by the man, mending damage from without and within.
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- ● Vagrant's Supplies
- Essential supplies for anyone who calls the road their home.
- Bandages, waterskin, rations, and a small fistful of battered gil. When one travels as light as this, one only carries what is most important.
- ● Decorated Whetstone
- A small stone, plucked from the depths of a deep lake. Usually for the sharpening of blades, this stone was picked for its lustre and has been polished to a mirror shine. On its surface, in rough Eorzean letters, is carved the word 'Freedom'.
- Hearsay speaks of a Xaela tribe in distant Othard picking stones from deep streams and lakes and carving them with important emotions and dreams. They were then passed to those that the giver felt needed those words the most.
- ● Hunter's Knife
- A thick blade of roughly forged steel with a wrapped leather handle. Nicked and weathered, but kept keen.
- Never used for defence, Averill keeps the blade exclusively for acquiring and preparing meats and materials from his kills. Butcher's work to keep the coinpurse and belly full.
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Notes
- ● Text, text, text.
- ● Text, text, text.
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OOC
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