Nagorean came from over there, and was driven forth by the war that is affecting everyone.
His one love is knowledge. His hated enemy is the destruction of knowledge. Stand between him and a tome, and you may regret it.

Nagorean’s face is neither young nor old, skin smooth and pale. He has thin, angular features, from sharp chin past a small perked mouth to high cheekbones above hollow cheeks, to deep-set eyes beneath arched, feathery silver eyebrows. His forehead is high and sweeps seamlessly into a bald skull of aerodynamic proportions, ears finely sculpted to sweeping points. The eyes are deep violet in hue, almost purple, a color no human eyes could attain. Upon his forehead has been smudged a splotch of ochre between the brows, with a single vertical black line sweeping up from it.

He wears simple and sturdy traveler’s clothes: high trail-boots of good leather cover his calves, rough-spun hempen breeks are tucked into them and are fastened with a narrow belt (also of leather); tucked into the breeks is a shirt of ducked hempen with long bloused sleeves and high collar. A quilted doublet of black-dyed wool pads a fairly-wrought haubergeon of stiff leather. Fingerless gloves of thin black leather cover his hands.

When outside, he is usually capped with a wide-brimmed hat of stained canvas and walks with a staff of shod wood. There may be a pack mule nearby, and if so, it sports a small travel trunk and a backpack; if not, Nagorean will be wearing the backpack.


The Destiny Chronicles bkm0obsidian_portal