Ocellus Aquilae
Ocellus a pris une petite, peut-être douce perruque de sa tasse avant d'essuyer ses lèvres et de fixer vaguement une serveuse à proximité. Elle était une belle pièce, sinon un peu mince, qu'il regardait depuis un certain temps avec la notion paresseuse de literie d'une manière ou d'une autre. Ocellus sourit alors qu'elle retournait à sa table, regardant son visage doux et rond avec ce qu'il espérait être un charme noble.
"Une autre bière, s'il vous plaît," dit-il, glisser la tasse dans sa main et presser une pièce de cuivre dans l'autre. Elle ne fit aucune expression de la timidité ou de la répulsion, et Ocellus savait alors qu'il n'avait aucune chance. Soupirant alors qu'elle s'éloignait, il s'appuya sur la chaise et regarda les mécènes. Attendre son contact était devenu plutôt ennuyeux, et il avait recouru à inventer des histoires sur les gens à l'intérieur.
La propriétaire de l'endroit - quel était son nom ("n'importe pas grand-chose...") - elle avait été prise dans un naufrage et jetée dans le laitier le plus boueux de roche volcanique imaginable. Ses oreilles avaient été coupées par de petits pixies, de sorte qu'elles ont grandi en points aigus. Elle a utilisé le bois du naufrage pour ensuite construire cette taverne et la faire vivre en vendant l'alcool qui restait (c'était certainement un runner du rhum).
"Dieu, comment l'esprit erre! Où est ce satané paysan?" Ocellus a brouillé à haute voix, brouillant la tasse de bière seulement pour se souvenir qu'elle n'était pas là. Il soupira, regarda le nouveau faire tomber des sacs de monnaie.
Des sacs de monnaie.
"Oh mon. N'est-ce pas intéressant," le voleur murmura alors qu'un sourire se cramponnait sur son visage.
Name: Ocellus Aquilae
Age: "This and that... older then some, younger than others..." (Thirty-three.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Occupation: Former soldier turned subsistence thief
Personality: He is facetious and sarcastic, but in a rather lighthearted manner that doesn't belie actual animosity. He's in many ways a nihilist who more or less acts the way one would act if he had nothing left to live for. He's not particularly angry or offended by much; not too terribly concerned with anything going on. He is unimpressed by those lurking in the shadows merely for the purpose of lurking in the shadows, and this manifests as a haughty, almost aristocratic arrogance. He is bubbly and friendly most of the time, however.
Bio: Ocellus was born the son of a minor noble, raised in the luxurious apartments of royalty, and cascaded in the rich lifestyles of the elite. He was naturally a trifle upset when this plush life was interrupted by one of the various wars wrought upon the kingdom by the searing bellows of fate. Forced into the soldier role by his father--who wished for his son to earn favor with a higher lord--he served as a knight in several minor skirmishes before being caught up in a major battle that left him horseless and alone.
Forced to survive with his limited knowledge of the outside world, he returned to the army some time later much the wiser and much the thinner. He scorned the rich armor and horses of the knights to take the ranger's cloak and dagger. He served as a scout, learning the ways of archery and swordsmanship before finally ending his service a much-changed man.
His father--having brought upon the wrath of a noble--was murdered by poisoned wine before Ocellus could return. Vowing revenge and at the same time losing faith in humanity, he fled the aristocratic lifestyle to pursue a career of thievery. This he used mostly for personal gain--although on occasion saving the odd starving orphan--and eventually became a minor criminal in the city at large.
Set upon a mission to take the aristocracy down a peg, Ocellus remains in the underbelly world of crime, constantly on the move. This makes his human relationships difficult to maintain, and he has had naught but the occasional fling to keep him sated and sane while his greater goal is slowly realized. At the moment of time, he is caught in the midst of a great heist on his first notable target: the High Lord Tax Collector.
What's in the bag:
"Oh, nothin' much..."
Regular sword with leather handle
Silver dagger to deal with those pesky magical folk
A recurve bow (smaller and easier to conceal)
A quiver of arrows
A silver shield medallion
"Even I don't know everything about me..."
Extra: He loves it when people fight. That means he can rob them blind.