|Height/Weight||6 fulms / 200 ponze|
The man known to most as merely 'Rook' is an enigmatic and powerful businessman with connections that rival the most influential merchant princes. Despite this, none have ever heard the aging hyur style himself as 'Lord,' nor has he claimed establishment of any House in his name. His existence in Ul'dah has been a way of life and politics for as long as this generation can remember; if your neighbor doesn't know the name 'Rook,' then their neighbor will, particularly in this ripe and exploitable 'Age of Adventure' as it's come to be called.
Fineries. The man is always decked in fineries. Be it cotton or silk as the climate of Thanalan demands, the fabric is always exquisite. The cut is always luxurious, with embroidery woven with thread of gold or silver. At least three rings weigh down each hand with gold and gems chosen to complement whatever he wears, adding a distinctive click whenever he handles something solid whether it's a glass or his hands on a table. The scant pieces of armor he wears seems to be entirely ornamental, inlaid with precious metals and fine craftsmanship. He never has to boast his wealth; he wears it plainly for all to see, inspiring confidence in clients and potential business associates. They can be assured of his success, and of their own.
Beneath the trappings of luxury is a contradiction, however. Rings are wide, fitted onto thick, calloused hands that know work well. Loose clothing is open, displaying a toned and well-muscled physique. Tighter clothing hides that, but draws attention to his broad stature paired with his height, giving him an intimidating bearing.
His hair seems more suited to his position; combed back neatly, precisely, with nary a hair out of place. All salt and pepper with streaks of starker gray that telegraph his long years. That's compounded with gaunt and weathered features marked by scars and lines of age alike. Wrinkles crease sallow skin around his mouth, and despite how few see behind his distinctive tinted lenses, crow's feet peek out at the corners of his eyes.
Completely out of place is the sharp tattoo that flanks his left eye, inked in dark blue-black and always kept touched up to counter the weight of years on his skin.
'Procurer' means a lot of things to a lot of people. Some make the mistake of thinking it a word to obfuscate 'thief' as one might use 'treasure hunter.' But despite how shady and ruthless Rook seems to be, thievery has never been known to be in his repertoire. What is certain is that when Rook is tapped, nearly anything is obtainable. Over the course of his career he's procured goods large and small, concrete and conceptual; from precious metals fashioned into unique tools, rare eastern spices and teas, to information and specific service-providers. There are darker, unspoken aspects of his business; goods that few admit to needing. Instead, they only reaffirm that 'nearly anything' stretches far indeed.
There's a jeweler's shop in his name, successful despite only being a storefront for his much more lucrative business. It seems to have preceded his time as a procurer, stretching back decades and paying into the Goldsmiths' Guild.
Rook's is a name well-known in Ul'dah and beyond, with contacts and clients from Vylbrand to northern Aldenard. Despite having so many in his employ, he often travels to tend his own business, alone or guarded.
Numerous rumors circulate about Rook, though few can confirm any truth. Clients and associates alike have their opinions and anecdotes.
Players can add on freely.
- "No, the details are between me and Mister Rook... though it's been a year and I'm still paying the man. Lucky he's so patient, even if his prices are mad."
- "Of course he works with the Monetarists! What merchant prince in this city doesn't? That doesn't mean he won't trade fair - he'll even do business with Royalists without a markup."
- "A man his age with that many young ladies hangin' off him? He sure knows how to draw 'em in, but they don't do him much good, if you catch my meaning. Doesn't touch a single one."
- "He just stared. Hells no, I didn't ask him what he wanted! I don't want to know what's behind those lenses."
- "Nigh as rich as any man on the Syndicate. Knew plenty of success even 'fore the Flame General went and bought the Coliseum. I hear they offered him a seat first, but he turned it down."
- "There's a monster in that armor what follows 'im 'round. Some sorta voidsent bound to metal. On ma's grave - I saw the visor up once. Jus'. Black."
- "No midder that big just sits around. 'Businessman' my arse."
- "That man knows things that a normal business fella ain't just gonna 'know'. I dunno, maybe he found books or scrolls somewhere, but I'm thinkin' it's more'n that -- more so know that I seen 'im toss a bloody Roe over 'is shoulders."