Worth
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Full Name: Marchosias Naberius
Name: Marc
Nickname: Beastie, King
Apparent Age: Middle Thirties
Age: 2,687
Birth Date: Sixth of FebruaryGender: Male
Species: Black Dragon
Personality: INTP
Voice: here
Theme: here
Zodiac: Aquarius ♒Sexuality: Strictly interested in Women (exclusively heterosexual; 0).
Disorders (known): Dissociative Identity and mild Schizophrenia.
Scent: Invigorating thyme with the woody earthiness of sage. (x)
Way of Living: Immoral and by all means definately corrupt.
Occupation: Freelancer.
Alchemist, Hypothecary
Musician & EntertainerKin (known): 3 brothers, 2 sisters
All are deceased due to murder .Status (social): Free, and for hire.
Past Residence: Dravyn CitadelCurrent Residence: Guildereim.
TGT - The Golden Tether
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Height: 6'7" Weight: 203 lbs
Eye Color: Onxy with bright yellow slits.
Skin Color: Pale white with patches
of black scales and faint grey markings.
Body Type: Lean, thin yet toned and muscular.
Hair Color: Blacker than a bandits heart (jet-black).
Hair Style: Long flowing, reaching to lower back.
Wingspan: Nearing 18 feet, from tip to tip.
Tail Length: 6 feet from base to tip of spade.
Posture: Upright & confident most of the time.
Tattoos: Alchemical runes on the tops of
both hands and on his chest over his heart.
Piercings: Silver studs along collar bones,
bar in right ear, and spiked gauge in left lobe.
Scars: 4; cut across cheek (r), claw marks across his
chest/abdomen, burn marks on shoulder (l) and bicep.
Natural Defenses: Claws, Venomous Bite,
Bladed Tail, Acidic Spit.
Notable Features: Skin is cold to the touch, patches of black dragon scale formed over his hips, up his spine, curling over shoulders to fade with wings.
Half-hazard hardly begins to describe the near gaunt, skeleton like frame that belonged to this mutt. An abomination of forbidden magics and cocktail mix of black hearted creatures pieces him together. Great leathery wings, toeing the line between draconic heritage and bat-like curl around his thin complexion, the occasional flex and drop of wide-reaching frame occasionally trailing delicatley behind their owner. Ill-proportioned tail lay hiding just beneath said wings, curling and coiling in serpentine whips with curved spade cutting through the dirt to carve a trail behind him wherever he went. The man himself looked to be a walking corpse, pallid in complexion and body temperature, nearly icy cold to touch; skin so bleak and bleached that even the dark veins were easily traced along the surface in black engravings. Lean and thin to the point of nearing emaciatation, it was a twisted and grave sort of handsome that exuded from his person, warped yet beautiful all at once. He dressed modestly, whether from lack of care about his appearance or perhaps shortage of coin for more proper attire was difficult to discern. Slacks, black with gold trim, clung to his non-existent hips, obviously too large by the way they bunched and wrinkled near his clawed feet. Only other clothes to note were criss-crossing bandages from elbow to wrist, winding between each taloned digit on his hand and back again. Quiet chime of bell and chains announces his presence wherever he roams, metal glinting faintly in the surrounding light. Following up his body and past exposed chest and stomach, rigid jawline and long, shadowy tresses help to frame his pale features: pursed lips black as night, sharp nose and sunken eyes housing eyes alight with sparks of moonlit yellow. Across his person is a simple satchel, the only belongings he owns at all, miscellaneous and mundane at best, but almost always useful to serve a purpose.
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Typically not one to care for an over abundance of clothing, preferring a simpler and more comfortable attire; he is not without the knowledge that first impressions sometimes play a large role in affairs and times might call for him to look his best when necessary. Formal occasions and the like are included.
Hairstyles
Clothing
Accessories
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Literate: Yes Languages Spoken: Common, Draconic, Abyssal, Elven Alignment: Neutral Evil Class: Rogue / Thief Hobbies: Gambling, Chemical Experimentation, Violin and Piano. Talents: Able to read lips, heightened senses (Sight, Smell, Hearing).
Proficiencies (weapons): One-Handed Weapons (Daggers, Swords, Axes), Bows & Crossbows, Throwing Knives.
Training: Infiltration, Deception, Stealth, Sleight of Hand, Hand-to-Hand combat, Lightfooted, Trapwork.
Wealth: Despite appearances, Marc is vastly wealthy. Throughout decades of hoarding, selling, and stealing he has amassed quite the fortune; in the form of both material possessions and currency. His wealth is never all kept in a single place at any time, usually divided between on his person, his current living quarters, and the majority of what's left housed back in his den. The dragon still to this day keeps a well hidden, unnamed mark of land somewhere in the world that stores a large portion of his physical riches in a large mountain of worth. In spite of his wealth, one would be hardpressed to wager or guess his means based on appearances or transactions. He does not spend frivolously or on a whim; instead purchasing only what he wants or needs at a given time, and not in excess. But one thing is for certain, it is always of high quality and caliber.
(Novice, Intermediate, Expert, Master)
Herbalism: Expert
Alchemy & Potion Brewing: Master
Lockpicking & Pickpocket: Intermediate
Music: Master
Dance: Expert -
Valuable Trinkets & Jewelry: Old habits die hard. Trait inherited from draconian lineage, he can't help but love all manner of expensive baubles. Rings, bracelets, gold, silver, gems, necklaces. If it could be pocketed or sold for a pretty coin piece, you could be sure he was more than interested. The more he had, the more content and seemingly pleasant he was.
Fires: While not one to shun the cold, there was something to be said for the warming sensation or a crackling flame. Something about the dancing embers and enticing coals soothed him. Attributed more than likely to his work in alchemy, usually involving some sort of open flame to cook or boil his ingredients. Fire was powerful, able to bring life or death.
Night time & Moon: Nocturnal by nature. A natural predator and thief. Not only did it make his more 'criminal' hobbies that much easier, there was something to be said for the soothing sight of moonlight and the calming quiet of the night stars and sky that always seemed to comfort him.
Art: In all of its forms. Paintings, murals, scores of music, instruments, dancing and theatre. All the sign of a more refined and cultured creature. Something that separated man from beast. The regal and refined from the underbelly of society.
Dancing: Another of his refined tastes, he both enjoy watching and partaking. Though the latter is more reserved for high-societal affairs; slow dances and the like. And for the former? Dancing was simply another way to communicate; exotic and intimate. A harkon back to older days long since past.
Drug-Induced Effects: Both for him and his 'patients'. Potions, oils, ointments, poisons, dusts, and the like. One can feel almost anything with just the right pinch of this or measurement of that. It gives him a wild thrill knowing he the knowledge to mix and concoct medicines that can either help save lives or help end them.
Games: Cards, dice, fights. Anything he can bet on. Was it a poor habit? Of course it was. Could he lose large amounts of gold? Easily. But the chance of winning big and doubling what he put in was too good to pass up. Especially when it wasn't his gold that he was betting to begin with. That made it all the sweeter.
Rain & Storms: Hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. Light rain he can deal with. But becoming soaked through his clothes and belongings, or unexpectedly becoming drenched is loathsome. It can ruins his ingredients, make it difficult to go hunting for herbs and plants, and takes him forever to dry off between his hair and wings. Not to mention it's more difficult 'sneaking' into other's homse when you leave wet foot prints behind.
Stubborn Arrogance: Persons, specifically free people at that, who either act as if they are better than other unowned others for no reason; and cannot be convinced otherwise. Typically this applies to authority figures and political figureheads.
Loud Sounds: Not a fear or phobia, but definitely a disturbance. It is oh-so-difficult trying to measure the perfect amount of dust or alchemical ingredient when suddenly you are started by a loud boom of thunder? Any and all loud, but namely -unexpected- sounds greatly annoy him.
Bell Peppers: Usually one for the taste of foods with a bit of kick and flavor to them, bell peppers are the exception to the rule. Hardly for their spice, but their flavor. He abhors it. Refuses to eat them; cooked, raw, chopped, anything. Even if they're not in the final dish or people claim 'you can't taste them.' He avoids them like the plague.
Filth: Stemming from his practice in science and lab-work, he refuses to tolerate filth or grime. Daily mundane dirt is fine, as long as their is a shower or bath somewhere at the end of the day. Other than that, spotless, scrubbed, and sterile.
Messiness: Branching off from his despise of dirt and grime; everything has to be tidy as well as neat. Organized. Papers, folders, bottles, beakers, potions. All labeled, sorted, and in order. That strand of hair out of place? He'll put it back with the others. Too many people judge a book by its cover, and he's found it's better to be prepared and look his best.
Chaos: Summing up the core of his dislikes. Anything unexpected or that serves to mess up his schedule day-to-day life. Putting him behind schedule, not being able to find what he knows he had organized earlier. He'll cope and make due, but he won't be happy about it. Order is the name of his game. Rules help structure and maintain that.
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~ Gallery for alerts of new art
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