Kael is the most reputed nuetral messenger in the city and uses his wind sprite to travel the rooftops at exceptional speeds. He donates his coin to foster care in poor districts and the elementalist guildhall and speaks notably with a thick cockney accent.
does it need to get there?!"
5' - 4"
Human - Tormauzian
Late teens / early twenties, though his size and weight (due to childhood malnourishment) might lead some to believe that he is 4 or 5 years younger.
thick, dark brown locks, cut unevenly to shoulder length.
Green, shading towards blue-green in daylight
The healthy tan of someone who spends a decent amount of time under the open sky.
Clothing/specialty noticeable equipment description:
Kael wears an antique Tormauz military uniform that he found in an abandoned attic - With a high collar (not pictured) and a military style several decades out of date, Kael initially raised eyebrows, but people have come to identify his ... unique... style with his task as a messenger, and wiser minds understand that it is a poor boy's attempted to acclaim his individuality. A further clue as to his calling is the mid-sized satchel which hangs on a strap that usually crosses his chest. A large knife and a few smaller pouches sit on his right hip.
In mage sight, Kael is surrounded by a mystical aura of blowing winds - a powerful
blue Grihl Sprite that shares his body and sees the world through his eyes. To empowered sight, important or emotional gestures seem to be accompanied by a small shimmer and zephyr of mana and mystical enegy.
The tiny teenager standing before you seems slight enough to be a scarecrow - the outdated military uniform sits loosely on his skin-and-bones frames, it's high collar buried beneath his thick, coarse, shoulder-length brown hair... When inside a building, green eyes dart around the area, scanning his surroundings from under heavy lids. Once under the open sky, his eyes seem to become bluer, and crinkle at the corners, as if the boy takes great joy in being in the outdoors. One hand rests easily, if protectively, on a courier's satchel that rests against his left hip and advertises his profession, though his whole body feels like a gently compressed string - not under tension, but ready to uncoil at a moment's notice.
At a second look, he may be older than he first seemed - There is the shadow of a youthful beard on his chin, and though his face lights up at the slightest provocation, his eyes carry something beyond childish innocence. Perhaps he would be attractive if he cleaned up and filled out, but between his thinness and his unkempt bearing, he manages not to turn many heads. Strangely, even though he seems rough around the edges (homeless? poor? perhaps just unaware of social mores?), he always smells fresh - of summer breezes and rain-damp roof tiles.