Rulaniir

Artificer

Male

22

200 lbs

6'5"

Scaly

Amber

Lizardfolk

Blue

The opposite of what you'd expect from a lizardfolk: hella emotional, big feelings, very full of impulse and zeal. Ambition and pride are his main driving forces; he's very competitive and maybe a teensy bit full of himself. Can often make a fool of himself out of his tunnel vision for his goals and his competitiveness.

Lizardfolk tend to be tall and bulky compared to humans, but the massive sail on the top of his head pushes Rulaniir over the top. Though he has the modest clothing and rough, calloused hands of a common worker, his flashy crest and proud bearing hint at a much more boastful, fiery nature than some no-name intern should rightfully have. He came to the city of Zion only a few short years ago, penniless but determined to learn the cutting-edge artificing techniques the city boasted. He gained an apprenticeship at the workshop of Zavrin Hearthlight, a renowned blacksmith. Zavrin was a creator renowned for his talents, ranging from fine weapons and armor to complex mechanical components for warforged. Though still just a novice, Rulaniir was thrilled to be studying under such a capable master, and burned with ambition to create works even more revolutionary and renowned than Zavrin himself.

The best laid plans of mice and lizards, sadly. Things didn't work out quite that way: some things happened, some stuff went south, and to cut a long story short... Rulaniir, still bent on creating something that will carve his name into the halls of history, wound up back on the streets with nowhere to go and nothing to his name but a set of tools and Zavrin's notebook. Couldn't get worse, at least, could it?

Current Status: Alive