Before you stands a strange sight, a silhouette of a man wrapped up in a long, heavy cloak dyed a rich and deep shade of crimson. A flash of bright green eyes is seen as they dart around, making sure not to miss a single unknown face in an ever-vigilant watch for danger. One hand stands almost permanently fixed on the hood, in a desperate fight to shelter the man's face further from the eyes of others.

A stranger sight indeed when that same crimson cloak lies abandoned next to him or folded in his arms. There is no grandeur to the often hidden sight, for it only reveals the face of a young Daleman, unweathered by war or pain and shining still in the strength of a young maturity.  The only mark upon it is a long, deep, diagonal scar that cuts through his brow, nose, and lip, serving as the only distinguishing feature on the otherwise perfectly unremarkable man.

Only when engaged in conversations does his appearance reveal further of his character, for it soon becomes apparent that no expression or change of tone shall reveal anything that is on his mind. Theothar speaks flatly, his voice monotone almost as if nothing before him brings any enthusiasm, only listless confusion. His face seems frozen, the only movement on it being his lips that part just enough to let out a voice.

The very few who have seen him laugh or smile would probably not be able to claim that that is what they saw so with confidence. When in an awfully good mood (him being in any mood at all being incredibly rare) his face might twist to something that would once resemble a smile. Yet it becomes immediately clear that this deep scar did not only ruin the appearance of the face, rather must have caused some severe nerve damage, leaving most of the muscles and skin completely dull and numb, unable to be moved in any way. Thus his earnest attempts at laughing or smiling are simply followed with a grimace that only ever could cause discomfort to those who saw it.

If there is enough alcohol in him or if he finds himself in what he would call 'acceptable company' for far too long, the Daleman would reveal that he is actually able to straighten his back, stretching it to its fullest potential and thus no longer looking as small and as frightened. Though if a stranger would approach in this very moment, his posture would once more shift, his back arched as if he were a feral cat ready to hiss or flee, whichever would get him out of the situation fastest.

He is of average posture, his arms, and legs carved into a lean yet healthy curve of muscles. Overall he looks much weaker than a true warrior and much stronger than one fallen ill; nothing but an average working man that does not indulge in excess of food or drink. He wears clothes that cling to his form, no rustling of fabric to be heard as he walks if he were to discard the cloak. Yet his boots are bulkier, ready for long travel upon much harsher terrain, and if one were to search through his belonging he would find two twin shivs strapped to the inside of them, handcrafted and minuscule, enough to fight but not enough to be noticed as he walks around freely.

Profile updated June 8th, 2021