Old. Old as balls. Whicked smaht. Don't got no time for the High Council of Magic.
- Age
- 123
- Gender
- Male
- Eyes
- Grey
- Hair
- Bald
- Skin Tone/Pigmentation
- Old and wrinkly
- Height
- 5' 6"
- Weight
- 138 lb.
Appearance
Mentality
Personal history
"I forget much, it's true, but I remember the details of my past. Some things cannot be forgotten... nor forgiven.
I was there, boy, one hundred and two years ago when that High Council of Dogs slew all who associated with The Order of the Runecasters.
They claimed it was punishment for the destruction The Order had inflicted during The North War, but those were uncertain times.
Both sides committed crimes, yet it's always the victor who gets to assign blame.
Both my father and my mother were advisors in The Order, seeking to aid Dawngate in ensuring fair governance. Yet even in their moderate posts, they were deemed too senior to go unpunished.
The last thing my father did before his death was ensure I was on assignment far enough North in Morrufell that I would be able to escape the magical pogrom he knew was coming.
I had to watch the rabble that charged my parents with death grow into what is now the High Council of Magic and secret away their knowledge for themselves.
But I learned all I know in a time when magic was freely taught and am privy to more about their organization than almost anyone alive - maybe more than all but their Grandmaster Wizards.
I've lived the equivalent of many lives in the past century and enjoyed many things, but even I can see that my time is running out. However, that doesn't change the fact that I'll be damned if that spire doesn't fall before I do. Now which one was it, dammit! The one on the left or the right?"
Snasall Eirfin, to the Innkeeper who expressed frustration after having to remind Snasall for the fifth time in two nights which of the inn's two rooms he was staying in
Personality
Social
Social