Physical Features
- Height:
- 6'2
- Weight:
- 225lbs
- Complexion:
- Blessed by the sun, he'd say. Just brown to everyone else.
- Hair:
- Long brown dreads lay in a thick pony-tail atop his head. Chaotic looking at first, upon closer inspection one would find not a single winding coil out of place. A merchant has to be well kept after all.
- Eyes:
- Light brown.
Other Features
Sensha is a tall, strong man. Almost imposing if not for that handsome smile and friendly demeanor of his. On a typical day you'll find him running a stall of his trinkets and experiements wearing his light and sturdy leather cuirass. He doesn't bother with much else in the way of protection, wouldn't want to give the wrong impression after all, and instead wears simple and clean linen pants and comfortable boots. At his side rests his trusted falchion, but other then that he'd seemingly have no other armaments to speak of.
Social Interactions
Relationships and Companions
He is friendly to many, but only friend to a few.
Personality
Sensha's hardened exterior can be very misleading, hiding well the person he really is. A kind and jovial man, one might think he’d known the strangers around him for ages the way he talks and greets them. Don't let that fool you though, he is a cunning merchant using silky words in the most sharp witted of ways merely to lure an extra coin into his hand.
There is another side to him though. Threats and insults roll off of him like water and are often countered with a joke and a drink ordered. If you are to truly befriend him, there is never a man more loyal. He will do everything he can to not let those close to him come into harm’s way.
If you catch him with the glint of curiosity in his eyes be wary, he’ll talk your ear off and keep talking as it tries to flee about magic, machine, and material.
His looks were not earned from lifting bags of gold but by felling his enemies for years on the battlefield. There was a time where he was known as an artist - his canvas the battlefield, his paint the blood and sinew of those unfortunate enough to meet his blade - the same blade that rests at his hip to this day.
Background
- Age:
- Roughly 39
- Origin:
- The Golden Sea
- Residence:
- Where ever the wind brings him
History
He remembered the bright sun. The smell of spices and the shouting of traders. The pain of hunger ravaging his body. Long ago had he stowed away on a ship leaving the Golden Sea behind in hopes of finding a better life. What he only found was more of the same just in a strange new land.
A portion of his younger years were spent wandering streets of places whos names escape him in search of food. Then one day he wandered into an alchemist's shop by mistake and began learning about the wonders of magic. Knowledge wasn't cheap, however, and he found himself needing an income to fund his ever growing curiosity. Little did he know his strong build was in high demand in Fellsgard.
Soon he was no longer wandering streets, but open fields with men felled all around him. The smell of blood never seemed to really wash off, but every bit of gold he earned was another book; another potion. Many years later here he was: Stood in the market of Verdant Row peddling his finest self-drying cloak just in time for the monsoon.