Thar Shaddin

"I guess I must have some nomad blood in me." I fixed the man with a smile that hooked down on one side. A peculiarity of mine.
He shrugged noncommitantly before taking a swig of his drink, watching me as he did. I pretended not to notice, knowing instinctively what he'd see. I saw it for myself in the reflection of the glass that I held between two long, ink-stained fingers:

A little taller than usual and long in arm and leg;- naturally fair looks burnt a leathery ochre from countless hours spent under the hot sun;- good clothes, but well worn, donating a dress sense you didn't see this side of the straits;- the slightly rasped accent that said 'Eastener' to anyone who didn't know any better.

This guy didn't know any better.

But I forgive him for that, mostly because I am a forgiving man. It comes with the territory, you might say - and I have certainly covered a lot of ground in this lifetime. I hope to cover a lot more. I have only been here three days and already feel pulled by the dust of the road...

My fellow drinker interrupts my train of thought.

"So, you said you have 'information'. You realise that could be interperated as dangerous talk in these parts?"
I arched an eyebrow for a moment, perplexed by his statement. He continued:
"You said you have information. I can see that you write down information" - he gestured at my the ink stains on my hands "and in some people's eyes that might make you a spy of some sort."
"I mean no harm." I assured him quickly.
"Oh I don't doubt that myself." He flashed me a toothy grin "It's just that it's open to interpretation, if you see what I mean. You aren't exactly local and this-" He leaned in close to me across the tavern table "-is a small town." He looked around mock-conspiratorily.
I sat back in the chair, idly rapping my fingers as I thought about what he'd said.
"Thank you... for the advice." I said uncertainly.
"On the house." He replied cheerfully. "Now, I do believe you were telling me about yourself?"
"Either not enough to tell, or too much to tell I guess."
"I'm all ears." He replied politely.

So I told him. Or at least I told him enough to make him think he knew something about me. We traded jokes and drinks and advice on how to haggle and places you must see right up until the very early hours of the morning... when the tavernkeeper came back downstairs and asked us to kindly shut up and piss off.

The words was aimed affectionately at my companion, apparently a regular of the joint. But for me - the obvious foreigner - i'm not sure the words were meant so kindly. This town is like a small world of it's own and for the moment I am the outsider. But I have made a start. I thought, as my happily drunken companion tried to hug me before staggering off vaguely in the direction of his home.

//He smells bad. But I think he is good.// I think as I trot confidently from the shadows, sniffing the air. I stop and sit at my feet, following my gaze down the road. My hand comes automatically down and strokes my head and my tail wags a little from the pleasure of the touch as my hand scratchs myself behind my ears. I live life for small moments like these.

It is quiet in the street, blackened windows gape at us like hungry mouths from the rows of houses on either side. But in the darkness and quiet of the early morning I feel safe, invisible. Just a man and his dog, I think, as I gaze down into the brilliant crystal blue of my canine eyes and up into the flecked green of my human ones. Or something more? I think humorously.

But my good humour does not last long. As I head back to my quarters the darkness of our distance tears at my insides and in the deathly quiet of the night in the City of Marn there is heard once the agnonised cry of a despairing man and once the whining howl of a truly lonely dog.

Name: Unknown

Nickname: Jinx

Age: 28

Height: 6' 2"

Eyes: Flecked Green

Hair: Coppery Brown

Facial Hair: A thick, scraggy goatee.

Skin: Tanned.

Build: Very fit stamina-wise, although not exceptionally strong. Long armed and legged.

Race: Human/Werewolf*

[Jinx was originally a Werewolf, but was was the victim of a cruel magical experiment that sought to seperate the two sides. To his horror Jinx found himself transformed into the shared conciousness between his newly divided selfs. He is now both Man and Wolf, but longs to find a way to reunite his form, to make himself whole again. He is mortally afraid of drifting apart from himself, of becoming two seperate selfs and strives to unify his experiances at all times. He is in Marn because he has heard rumours that there is someone there who might be able to restore him to the way he used to be...]

Personality:
Jinx is what most people would call a 'Bard'. Personally he hates the term and usually refers to his proffesion as a 'Stranger'. He is adept at soaking up information and local colour and although fairly introverted, tends to get along with people reasonably well. He is a consummate gather of information and spends most of his earnings on paper and writing materials - He has deposits of his writings buried in locations all over the Eastern Empire! He puts his aquired knowledge to good use and most often earns his coin by trading information with the local merchants. He also has a beautiful baritone singing voice, although he is relucantant to share it. He ususally reveals it only when he isn't able to earn coin some other way.

Combat

He cannot fight almost at all in his human flesh, although his Wolf self is not so disadvantaged. However the confusion from his mixed conciousness is likely to hinder him severely should any confrontational situation arise. Fortunately these are rare, as Jinx's naturally pleasent and diplomatic nature gets him by in most circumstances.

He is a decent shot with his crossbow, but no more than that.

Clothes and Equipment:

> A thick, well-made red robe with a black-rope tie. Dusty and worn, but very much intact.

> A carrying-sack for his paper and writing materials.

> An tiny, ornate chest containing his personal accumulation of spices, herbs and balms.

> A hand-crossbow (double bolt) and a measly six quarrels to go with it. He dearly hopes he never has to use it. The quarrels have the capacity to store poisen in the tip.

> His bedroll etc.

First of all, we don't post in multiple colors. We just don't do it.

Next, I want to point out that you wrote this post in first person, we write in third person here.

Points taken onboard. Sorry if I offended.

I can write competantly in third person, indeed I was expecting to. I was merely trying to set the scene a little for the character post.

- What about the content, is it within the realms of the reasonable?

- Are there any glaring contradictions of the setting that I should change?

Sincerely,

Jinx

EDIT: Offending colours removed from the first post.

I am a little confused as to what he looks like. Does he shift back and forth from a wolf to a man like our other werewolves do or is he some sort of part man-part wolf person?

I would also like to see the addition of a strengths and weaknesses sections so we get a better understanding of what he can and can not do.

I suggest you look at some of the other character sheets to see what we look for in an application.

Well the excerpt is well written but Niabi's right. At least half of what we need apps for are to judge the fairness of characters and to review them on that level.