Name: Atlas Del Nord
Quote:
"I only steal what I can't afford"
Age: 24 (Actual age would be 35, counting the 11 years he had been 'dead')
Title: "Betrayer" "White Tiger" "Witches familiar" "Thief"
These past few years Atlas has been living what most people would call a 'blur'. Right up to the moment he was wandering the desert planes, working under an air vessel manned by a crew of pirates, and (currently) living in the slums of Illiserev. There's one thing constant about him though and that's his continuous travels. Moving from one place to another, most of the time penniless and yet that doesn't seem to bother him as much as any normal human being should. After all he only steals what he needs to survive and food was of abundance around every street vendor.
As for his past, there's a reason why he hasn't touched upon that subject for a number of years. But to save you all the angst and unnecessary filler, the short and sweet explanation is that Atlas fucked up. Very, very badly. With one of the most powerful witches of that time no less. And in the end he was cursed to live forever. Now to some '
living forever' sounds like a pretty good deal but in this case actual experience defeats baseless fantasies. Especially when you wake up and discover that the entire world had jumped 11 years into the future without you.
Now the only chance he's got to properly dying is to find the descendant of said witch and have the curse lifted. Since as long as her blood line, no matter how impure, lives on he will remain essentially trapped in time. And even if he does find a descendant there's no telling if they will be a male or female. The latter he is hoping on the most since only a witch can communicate with the spirits that will keep reviving his dead corpse. But since the last time he crossed beyond deaths door it had taken him 11 years to awaken, Atlas is in no position to take that risk again.
There's also the possibility that said descendant will just tell him to 'Fuck off' or figures out that he's in all intents and purposes, a slave to the family line until given permission to die. And so far the only solution he has for that predicament is: "I'll deal with it when I get there"
Now onto looks. If there was one word Atlas has heard used in nearly every context concerning his appearance it would be 'exotic'. Maybe now it was but give or take a decade ago there was a race of humans with identical features living in the desert planes. Those areas have now been considered danger zones with high levels of Rift-Beast activity, so when he discovered that desert nomads were now near non-existence he wasn't all that surprised. Apart from the occasional prejudice, strange rumors, and easy-to-avoid slave hunters, nothing has hindered him too badly.
Currently however he's gotten a bit of makeover from his previous past appearance. A very long time ago he had kept his white hair long, more protection against the sand littered air and light enough to not bake him in the heat of the desert sun. Now it was no longer practical and so Atlas opted for a trim, cut by a rusty knife that may or may not have been used to scrape off barnacles. His tan complexion is of course ever present along with the molten gold irises that glinted like sand dunes under the afternoon light.