Dragdavan- The Beast

Appearance:

Like any Fomorian, Dragdavan is well-muscled, if lean. His heavy leather coats tend to make him look burlier than he really is. Under this layer, he has many holsters and pockets, with whatever clothing he bothers with depending on the weather. It can range from thick thermal underwear to a loincloth. One more layer down, his pale skin is covered in scars and he is missing a hand. This is not an injury, but his Fomorian deformity. In its place is a steel prosthesis with closed fingers. It cannot move like a regular hand, but the fingers can be manually closed to hold objects. Often, it only serves as a weapon. His face is equally scarred, leading him to hide it in his oversized hood. His eyes are large and circular, extremely expressive orbs that take in everything around him. One of his ears has been so cut up it is nearly in ribbons, completing his ravaged appearance. His teeth are sharp and triangular, not a standard feature of Fomorians.

History:

Dragdavan began his life inauspiciously. Born to drug addicts who couldn’t afford to raise him, he was placed in a basket and set off down the cold river that runs through Bunkertown. Why they chose this method to dispose of him is unknown. Perhaps they thought he would be noticed, retrieved, and adopted. He was not. The river took him away, deep into the Underlands, beyond where anybody had explored before.

His childhood is a puzzle, small pieces being held by many across the outskirts of Bunkertown. People recall the strange naked child who came from the darkness to play with them. Seldom did he speak himself, but he hung on their every word with an intensity nobody else listened to them with. Any food he was offered he would instantly devour. The noises of creatures they had never heard before would call him back into the darkness, and they would never see him again. Sometimes books went missing from collections, at first children’s books, then higher and higher levels of reading until even the weightiest tomes were vanishing. All of this should have began before he was ten, but many still insist he was the one taking them.

It was years later that the first person disappeared, an old human mushroom farmer with a collection from the surface. His body was found later by the river, half-eaten. Most of his books were gone, never to be found. Several travellers and explorers similarly vanished while probing the Underlands. How much of this was his doing may never be known. Now he is still sometimes seen, coming into towns to sell what he gathers and makes for books and foodstuffs he can’t make himself, seeking sexual partners, or thread and cloth to sew with.

Personality:

Knowledge is power, and power is everything. Power brings safety, food, friends, and fornication. So take this power of knowledge wherever you can. Become sharp. And stop at nothing.

Relationships:

Dragdavan is known personally to the few shopkeepers he sold hides and meat to and known by reputation at the bars and clubs where he seeks companionship, but nobody knows him well besides the monsters he keeps as companions.

Powers:

Fomorian strength- A Fomorian’s strength is proportional to their disfigurement. With a relatively minor deformity, Dragdavan is not as physically powerful as many other Fomorians, but still stronger than a regular human.

Brain- Dragdavan has an absurdly sharp mind. He learns and reads at a rapid pace, burning through books like they’re mere pamphlets. He doesn’t, however, so easily learn social skills or practical tasks.

Bestial Bond- While his ability to charm people is limited, Dragdavan has an instinctive way with monsters. While he cannot exactly tame all of them, he is able to at least read their body language and avoid angering them. He similarly understands the body language of people; it’s verbal communication he falls apart on.

Beasts:

Fetchbats- Small mammalian flying creatures that can pick up tiny objects in their feet and imitate voices. Dragdavan uses them to scout ahead, as they are incapable of battle. They are also frequently troublesome and disobedient, stealing food and trinkets they get their hands on.

The Crowlus- In the upper levels of the Underlands, near Bunkertown, there are few dangerous creatures. The meager mushrooms that grow without agricultural interference don’t feed anything bigger than a cat usually. Deeper, however, unknown forces make things truly grow.

A crowlus is potentially a spider, but not any regular one. Its spindly legs hold it high enough off the ground that it can walk over Dragdavan. Its body is small comparatively, about as large as a human toddler and just as fleshy and soft. Its head is eyeless, with short horns where the eyes should be. Its pedipalps have small hands that lack nails or claws, capable of holding small objects.

Crowlus are only mildly venomous, meaning that those who are bitten are more at risk of bleeding out from the massive wounds their fangs inflict than from anything else. Instead of fighting with these fangs, they cast threads from the ends of their limbs and mouth, lacking spinnerets in the usual abdominal location. They wrap their prey up so tightly they are constricted.

Dragdavan keeps a crowlus hidden under his coat to extend its limbs and cast threads for him. He takes great care of his crowlus and feeds them well, largely leaving the meat of his kills to them.