Saiid Grey
Saiid Grey entered the world beneath a dusk-lit sky, his first cries echoing through cramped alleyways and half-collapsed shanties of Varanthia’s slums. Rumor had it that his mother—a name spoken only once in bitter whispers—left him wrapped in faded linen at the stoop of a worn-down boarding house before slipping away into the night. As for his father, no one knew. The closest thing he had to a family were the old beggars who gave him scraps from their bowls, and the street children who would grudgingly share a damp corner of shelter to sleep away the chill. In those early days, Saiid learned that survival was both a necessity and an art form.
He matured quickly—faster than the human norm—and by ten he understood just how different he was. He could sense the earth’s subtle tremors beneath the wooden floorboards of tenements or the battered cobblestone streets. He could discern footsteps, even heartbeats, from the vibration that thrummed through his boots. He knew which hovels belonged to families who slept soundly and which to loners hunched over grimy tables, sharpening knives. With his knack for reading the earth’s voice, he began to pick locks before his arms had fully reached their adult length. Yet, even at that young age, his body promised strength beyond its size—a trait he could never fully explain but instinctively cherished. It had something to do with bloodlines he’d never traced, and a heritage he didn’t understand. Half-Gor, they would call him if they knew. One of those rare, mixed folk—children born of might and mystery, inheritors of impossible strength.
At thirteen, Saiid was fending for himself. He avoided street gangs when he could—joining them meant oaths he had no desire to swear, and he distrusted their rough hierarchy. He preferred the silent jobs, slipping into quiet homes when he knew their owners were away. He’d place a hand to the door, close his eyes, and listen as tremors told him who waited inside. More often than not, he found empty rooms, rifled through half-empty cupboards, and vanished before dawn. Some nights he went hungry rather than risk a place that felt occupied or dangerous. Fear and cunning shaped him, but so did a strange internal moral compass. He never took more than he needed. He never harmed those he robbed, and he never looted the homes of the truly destitute. Survival, yes—but not at the cost of becoming a monster.
In his sixteenth year, he discovered the first hints of something deeper lurking within him. Rumors spread through Varanthia’s slums of a Ruin incursion, where creatures twisted by malevolent forces haunted the outskirts of old buildings. Most people fled inside, cowering behind makeshift barricades. Saiid stood at the threshold of a ramshackle alley, heart hammering, unsure why he didn’t run. One of those things—dark, chitinous, and wrong—skittered toward him. He remembered the instinct, not a conscious decision. A roar boiled out of his throat, hot and furious, a sound that shook his bones. He didn’t just fight the creature; he outlasted it. He was barely armed—just a sharpened iron scrap—but his unnatural strength and resilience proved enough. When he finally felled it, panting in the moonlight, he realized something had changed within him.
The ordeal left a strange taint—an echo of Ruin—in his blood. He’d survived an attack that should have killed him, and it granted him abilities he never asked for. He discovered that his body no longer aged as others did. His strength deepened; his constitution hardened. He learned that by sheer force of will and cunning, he could push his body beyond normal limits, break past the restrictions of mortal flesh. He became a Ravager—an unwilling inheritor of horrors, yet tempered by his own quiet moral code. With that curse came opportunity: when faced with monstrous strength or cunning foes, he could stand taller and fight harder.
Over the next years, Saiid drifted through the underbelly of Varanthia, taking odd jobs—mostly illicit—and honing his craft. He remained an outsider, never quite fitting into the militaristic pride and honor culture of the city. He was neither noble soldier nor proper citizen. Still, he learned Varanthian ways: their dress codes woven with armor, their hushed respect for martial prowess. He could sense their expectations in the way they carried themselves, clad in protective garb even at formal gatherings. Saiid tried to remain invisible, blending into the crowd, but his size and bearing set him apart. Already tall and broad, every year that passed only made his presence more difficult to ignore.
By eighteen, he had refined his method of thievery. Tremorsense guided him, and he would crush locks with a careful twist of his wrist—almost gentle in its execution. He learned to slip in and out of homes so quietly that, in the morning, his victims swore the wind had stolen their valuables. Yet Saiid was no common burglar. If he found a child’s toy or a family’s only loaf of bread, he left it untouched. He had his line, even if it was a thin one.
As the years ticked by, he felt the pull of something larger. The scar of that Ruin encounter still ached in his blood. He could feel magic and might swirling within him, a heavy responsibility he hadn’t asked for. At twenty, he tested himself against a gang of brigands terrorizing a corner of the slums. He hadn’t meant to play hero, but their cruelty had become too much. He confronted them under a half-lit torch, his muscles corded like steel, and showed them what a Ravager truly was. Afterward, whispers spread: a giant of a man with scales tough as armor, bones that shrugged off blows, a heart that beat like a wardrum, and a roar that could shatter steel. He became a rumor himself, a phantom of the undercity.
Now, at twenty-two, Saiid stands at a crossroads. He knows the slums too well, each secret corner and desperate alley. He knows how to steal unseen and break locks like twigs. He knows how to harness the power in his blood—both the Half-Gor might and the Ruin-born resilience. The question that haunts him is what he’ll do with it. He’s no stranger to the cruelty of the world; it carved him from stone and shadow. Yet there’s a spark inside him, perhaps one inherited from some distant lineage, that tells him he can be more than a gutter thief. Dissatisfied with a life defined by survival rather than purpose, Saiid left Varanthia behind. He journeyed into Eryndor, seeking a place where honor mattered more than raw power. Torn between the tension of two rival kingdoms and lurking threats like Kalevalaian raiders, he hoped to find honest meaning in a land that valued duty and decency—an opportunity to become something more than a whisper in the shadows.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Saiid Grey is an imposing figure, his towering 11'11" frame packed with dense, corded muscle that speaks of raw strength rather than refined agility. His physical condition is exceptional, bolstered by his Targon heritage, which grants him resilience beyond normal human limits, though his massive size makes him less nimble. Despite his power, he bears the marks of his hardships: scars across his chest from a Ruin beast’s attack, a missing left eye, and the nub of his pinky finger severed during a desperate fight.
Body Features
Saiid Grey’s frame is monumental, his towering 11’11” height matched by a body sculpted through years of survival and combat. His muscles are dense and sinewy, built for both endurance and explosive power, while his broad shoulders and massive hands reflect the legacy of his draconic and Half-Gor heritage. His scaled skin, a deep matrix brown with faint metallic sheens, gives him a near-impervious appearance, making armor redundant and his presence as imposing as it is inhuman.
Facial Features
Saiid's face is rugged and angular, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw that convey both resilience and intensity. Two short, curved tusks—marking his Half-Gor bloodline—protrude subtly from his lower jaw, adding a feral edge to his otherwise stoic expression. His remaining electric violet eye glows faintly under certain light, a piercing contrast to the scarred, empty socket on the left side of his face, where his eye was lost in a vicious battle. These features, combined with a perpetually furrowed brow and a mouth often set in a soft, introspective line, create a striking balance between his calm demeanor and fierce presence.
Identifying Characteristics
The missing nub of his pinky finger on his left hand, severed during an ill-fated confrontation, is a subtle yet personal mark of his turbulent past. His chest bears jagged scars carved by a Ruin creature, and his tail—double his towering height in length—commands immediate attention, curling behind him with an almost predatory grace. His combination of height, draconic scales, and physical scars makes him unmistakable, even in a crowd.
Physical quirks
Despite his monumental size and strength, Saiid moves with surprising care, his footfalls deliberately soft to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. He often rests his hands on his knees or leans slightly when speaking to those shorter than him, a subconscious attempt to lessen his intimidating presence. Additionally, his soft-spoken nature contrasts with his fierce gaze, creating a juxtaposition that often leaves others uncertain of his true intentions.
Special abilities
Saiid's unique heritage and experiences have gifted him with formidable powers, though he wields them sparingly. His draconic lineage grants him scaled defenses and a fearsome roar capable of unsettling foes, while his tremorsense allows him to detect subtle vibrations in the ground, reading the presence of others long before they come into view. As a Ravager touched by ruin, he can push his body beyond mortal limits, enduring hardships and crushing resistance where others might falter. Yet these abilities come with emotional burdens, and he chooses to rely on his raw might and street-honed instincts rather than flaunting the powers that set him apart.
Apparel & Accessories
Saiid dresses to minimize encumbrances, favoring simple garments that allow his massive frame to move freely. He typically wears durable trousers and a sleeveless tunic of coarse fabric, reinforced at the seams to withstand his physicality and his scaled skin. A weathered cloak drapes from his shoulders, hood pulled low to help him blend into crowds and shadowed alleys, and he ties strips of cloth around his wrists to improve grip and hide small scars. He disdains ornate jewelry, but carries a braided cord of leather around his neck, a sentimental memento from his youth that holds no intrinsic value beyond reminding him of where he came from.
Specialized Equipment
Saiid rarely relies on elaborate gear, instead preferring tools that complement his natural abilities. He keeps a set of improvised lockpicks—recycled scraps of metal shaped through trial and error—tucked inside a hidden pocket of his cloak. A long polearm, chosen for its reach and leverage rather than any ceremonial design, often rests slung across his back, its shaft worn smooth by countless hours of practice. Though he lacks advanced armaments or magical artifacts, the few items he does carry are tailored precisely to his needs, enabling him to exploit his strength and cunning without drawing unnecessary attention.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
From the earliest days when he could barely stand upright, the world forced Saiid to adapt rather than simply grow. There was no one to guide him, no steady influence or parental advice; necessity taught him to value silence and cunning. He became adept at guessing people’s intentions from the tension in their posture or the quality of their tools rather than their spoken words. Without stable role models, he learned by observing the unspoken hierarchies of back-alley life and the survival tactics of others too desperate to trust. While some carved their futures through raw intimidation, he honed the subtler arts—fitting his fingers into gaps no one noticed, timing each movement to vanish into the city’s background hum, and prioritizing food and shelter before any notion of comfort.
His unusual physical prowess, though never fully understood, became a crutch he learned to lean on sparingly. Why break a door down if he could slip through a window first? Yet, when strength was required, it did more than merely solve problems—it defined him in ways that intellect and wit could not. Over time, he blended these advantages with a growing sense of restraint. If he forced a lock or scaled a wall, it was never for the sheer thrill. Instinct urged him to keep a low profile, to recognize that drawing too much attention would only invite more trouble. The lessons he absorbed weren’t imparted by elders but gleaned from the aftermath of his own missteps: unnecessary bruises, near-misses with hostile gangs, and that suffocating dread of being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Embracing an existence between honest folk and hardened criminals, he found a strange equilibrium. He had no illusions about fairness—he knew the rules favored the strong or well-born—but he refused to become a predator by choice. He took what he required, avoided pushing his luck with unnecessary cruelty, and tried to walk a narrow line between exploitation and empathy. The subtle skills he picked up along the way—coaxing information from reluctant lips without open threats, easing out of tight corners without surrendering what little he had, rigging makeshift climbing knots from scrap rope—were all pieces of an improvised code. Each trick or technique enabled him to drift quietly through life, yet none of them truly satisfied the underlying hunger to matter beyond just staying alive.
Eventually, the restlessness that gnawed at him could no longer be ignored. He had gained proficiency in slipping through crowded alleys, outmaneuvering brutes, and divining safe routes where others stumbled. But this competence brought him no pride, only the understanding that he owed himself more than a life spent darting in and out of the shadows. Part of him wondered if there might be a place where physical gifts and a guarded sense of ethics could serve something greater than his next meal. He didn’t need validation from strangers; he needed the assurance that his existence could mean something beyond the desperate hustle of day-to-day survival.
In time, that stirring of purpose led him away from familiar territory. He left behind the unspoken language of nods and subtle gestures that had once passed for camaraderie in the streets, chasing an idea more than a destination. If another land promised a culture that valued forthright honor—or at least tried to—he wanted to test his worth against that measure. Perhaps, elsewhere, the tension between brute strength and moral restraint would yield something more lasting than a handful of stolen goods. Perhaps he could finally rely on more than his wits and muscles to find a sense of belonging that wasn’t rooted in fear or necessity. This longing, quiet but persistent, guided his footsteps as he stepped beyond the only life he’d ever known.
Gender Identity
Saiid Grey identifies as a cisgender man, fully embracing the masculine aspects of his identity despite his extraordinary draconic and Half-Gor heritage. Growing up in the harsh environment of Varanthia’s slums, Saiid adopted a stoic and resilient persona, aligning with the traditional masculine roles of strength and survival that dominated his surroundings. However, his introverted nature and soft-spoken demeanor reveal a depth of introspection and emotional restraint that contrast with his formidable appearance. Saiid navigates his gender identity by balancing the expectations of Varanthian society with his personal moral compass, choosing to express his masculinity through actions and integrity rather than conforming to superficial standards. This nuanced approach allows him to maintain his sense of self amidst the chaos of his past and the uncertainties of his present journey in Eryndor.
Sexuality
Saiid Grey identifies as heterosexual, though his experiences in the unforgiving slums of Varanthia have left him cautious and reserved in matters of intimacy. Growing up amidst constant survival struggles and the necessity to prioritize stealth and self-preservation over personal relationships, Saiid has developed a guarded approach to romance and emotional connections. While he is open to forming bonds, his past has instilled a reluctance to fully trust others, making genuine romantic relationships rare and deeply meaningful when they occur.
His introverted nature and soft-spoken demeanor mask a profound longing for connection, yet his fierce exterior often intimidates potential partners, further complicating his pursuit of companionship. Saiid's preference for solitude and his focus on personal moral codes over societal expectations also influence his romantic choices, leading him to seek partners who respect his boundaries and understand the complexities of his dual heritage and tumultuous past.
Despite his reservations, Saiid values loyalty and honor in relationships, mirroring the Varanthian ideals he has both observed and subtly internalized. When he does form a romantic bond, it is characterized by unwavering commitment and mutual respect, reflecting his desire to transcend his life of shadows and find solace in genuine companionship. This selective openness ensures that his relationships, though few, are strong and enduring, providing him with a rare sense of belonging and purpose beyond his solitary existence.
Education
Saiid Grey’s education was shaped by the streets of Varanthia rather than formal schooling. Growing up in Blackhollow, he relied on survival instincts, observational learning, and trial and error to navigate his harsh environment. His natural talent for reading people, situations, and even the subtle tremors of the earth gave him a practical understanding of the world that far surpassed his limited academic knowledge.
Saiid is functionally illiterate and struggles with concepts requiring structured logic or abstract thinking, a gap that reflects his lack of formal education. However, his keen street smarts and intuitive understanding of human behavior allow him to excel in matters of persuasion, deception, and criminal enterprise. He has a surprising knack for solving problems in real-time, particularly those involving physical tasks or social maneuvering. His knowledge of Varanthia’s underworld, gained through years of navigating its darker corners, could rival that of any seasoned thief or smuggler.
Despite his limited traditional education, Saiid possesses a deep practical intelligence. His ability to adapt and think on his feet has kept him alive in situations where book learning would have failed. If pressed, he may not understand philosophy or advanced arithmetic, but he knows how to assess risks, outmaneuver adversaries, and exploit weaknesses—skills that have served him far better in his life thus far.
Employment
Saiid has never held a formal job. His “employment” consists of the illicit activities that sustained him during his time in Blackhollow and beyond. Starting as a petty thief in his early years, he quickly developed a reputation for his stealth, efficiency, and uncanny knack for knowing when a home was empty. His tremorsense made him an unparalleled infiltrator, earning him recognition among certain criminal circles, though he avoided entanglement with major gangs or syndicates to maintain his independence.
As he grew older and his reputation spread, Saiid began taking on more dangerous but lucrative jobs. These included breaking into well-guarded warehouses, stealing goods for black-market merchants, and occasionally acting as a smuggler. His large stature and fearsome presence often discouraged pursuit, though he rarely resorted to violence unless absolutely necessary.
Since arriving in Eryndor, Saiid has struggled to find steady work that aligns with his moral code and desire for a more meaningful existence. His skill set makes him well-suited for mercenary work, bodyguarding, or even covert operations, but his disdain for authority and mistrust of structured systems keep him at the fringes of lawful society. For now, he takes odd jobs where his strength and stealth are useful, carefully avoiding anything that might bind him to someone else’s agenda.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Despite his rough beginnings and the limited opportunities afforded to someone of his status, Saiid Grey has carved out a life that speaks to his resilience and raw determination. In the slums of Blackhollow, where survival was an achievement in itself, Saiid's ability to fend for himself from a young age earned him quiet respect among those who recognized his skill. He was not just another street rat scavenging for scraps—he was a figure of resourcefulness, a boy who could pick a lock with precision, evade capture with uncanny speed, and always seem to know when danger was near.
His most defining achievement came when he faced the Ruin creature that threatened his life—and possibly the lives of others—in the shadowy outskirts of Blackhollow. Saiid could have run, like everyone else, but something deep within him refused to yield. Armed with little more than a shard of iron and his burgeoning strength, he faced the monstrosity and lived to tell the tale. Though he emerged with scars and a missing eye, the encounter left him with newfound abilities and a hard-earned sense of confidence. Surviving that encounter marked a turning point in his life, proving to himself and others that he was not only capable of enduring the unimaginable but also of rising above it.
Another of Saiid's accomplishments lies in his mastery of his unique skill set. His tremorsense, coupled with his physical prowess, has made him a thief unlike any other. Over the years, he has executed countless heists, slipping into homes undetected, navigating complex structures with ease, and leaving behind no trace of his presence. It is said that even the most secure locks seem to crumble under his grasp. Yet, despite his criminal activities, Saiid maintained an unspoken code of honor—avoiding unnecessary violence, sparing the vulnerable, and refusing to steal from those worse off than himself. In doing so, he distinguished himself from the common rabble of thieves, becoming an almost mythic figure in the underworld.
In Eryndor, while he is still finding his footing, Saiid's strength and presence have already made an impression. He has taken on small but significant jobs, using his abilities to help those who cannot help themselves, even if it means treading the line between legality and survival. Though he is not yet a celebrated hero, his actions—quietly defying brigands, aiding struggling villagers, and standing against injustice where he finds it—have begun to shift how he views himself. Each act, no matter how small, contributes to a growing sense of purpose, a belief that his strength and scars could serve something greater than just his own survival.
Failures & Embarrassments
For all his cunning and strength, Saiid Grey’s past is marked by moments he would rather erase, where his pride, fear, or inexperience left scars—both emotional and physical. Among the earliest of these failures was an ill-conceived attempt to rob the home of Markus Halyard, a seasoned Varanthian city guard renowned for his unshakable vigilance. Saiid's tremorsense had told him the house was empty, but he had overlooked the subtle rhythm of Markus’s approach—deliberate and silent, as the man often patrolled his street even when off-duty.
Saiid barely made it inside before the door crashed open, and Markus, blade drawn, filled the small home with an imposing presence. Saiid tried to bluff his way out, offering a rushed excuse about seeking shelter, but Markus saw through him. When Saiid made a break for the window, Markus caught his wrist, and the ensuing struggle was short and brutal. Markus’s longsword, wielded with cool efficiency, swept in a lethal arc. Though Saiid deflected the blow with a stolen dagger, he was too slow to avoid a second strike. In that brief, bloody instant, the nub of his left pinky finger was severed from his hand. Clutching his injury, Saiid escaped through the window and vanished into the alleys. The missing finger throbbed for weeks, a painful reminder that strength and cunning could fail him, and that underestimating a well-trained opponent had cost him a piece of himself.
A deeper wound was left by his failure to protect Algren, an elderly beggar who had once shown him kindness. Algren had given Saiid a crust of bread when he was too young to steal for himself. Years later, Saiid learned that Algren had refused the demands of the Razor Rats, a gang notorious for their cruelty. Two of their enforcers, Bryce Vellar and Corbin “Chainfist” Tyne, trapped Algren in a deserted alleyway. Fear rooted Saiid in place as he listened to blows landing, bones cracking, and old Algren’s muffled cries. By the time he mustered the courage to act, it was over. He found Algren bloodied and barely alive. Though the beggar survived, his frail laughter upon learning that Saiid had been nearby the whole time stung worse than any blade.
In the weeks that followed, consumed by guilt, Saiid tracked down Bryce and Corbin. He ambushed them in that same alley. The fight was dirty and desperate; Bryce’s dagger carved a jagged gash above Saiid's right knee before he drove them away. Though he’d avenged Algren too late, the scar on his leg remains a permanent reminder of the night he hesitated, a mark of the cost of his cowardice.
One of his more public humiliations occurred at a gathering hosted by Elias Corvalis, a prominent smuggler with connections to Varanthian nobility and the underworld alike. Saiid hoped to prove himself among the city’s shadowed elite, donning stolen finery and rehearsing what he believed were refined manners. Yet every gesture was awkward; he stumbled over greetings, misread veiled insults, and balked when the topic shifted to delicate trade negotiations he barely understood.
Elias, a man who delighted in unmasking pretenders, singled Saiid out with a mocking invitation to comment on a fictitious wine vintage. Saiid tried to improvise but exposed his ignorance instead. Elias’s laughter rang through the room, turning Saiid into a spectacle. Not only did Saiid leave without allies, but Elias ensured he’d find no reputable work afterward. Adding literal injury to insult, a scuffle with one of Corvalis’s taunting lackeys left Saiid nursing a bruised face and a small notch in his right brow where a shard of glass had split the skin. That faint scar on his forehead still prickles whenever he recalls the sting of public mockery and social ineptitude.
Mental Trauma
Saiid Grey’s mental scars run as deep as the physical ones, carved by experiences that shattered his sense of control and left him grappling with fear, guilt, and self-doubt. The encounter with the Ruin creature that nearly ended his life remains his most vivid torment. He can still hear the skittering of its unnatural limbs, feel the oppressive chill that suffocated the alley, and smell the metallic tang of his own blood. The creature’s jagged claws not only tore into his chest but into his psyche, embedding a raw and unshakable fear of what lurks in the dark corners of the world. Every glance at the scars across his chest is a reminder that there are forces beyond his comprehension—forces he was powerless to resist, even with all his strength. The trauma manifests in his restless nights, plagued by dreams of twisted shapes and suffocating darkness. He often wakes up gasping, clutching his chest, half-expecting to see the creature looming over him.
His failure to protect Algren haunts him in quieter, subtler ways. The old beggar’s hoarse laugh, thick with bitter disappointment, is a sound that Saiid cannot forget. It echoes in the back of his mind whenever he hesitates or falters, feeding his fear that he will fail someone again. He often revisits that moment in his thoughts, replaying every second, imagining the things he could have done differently. The guilt weighs heavily on him, not because Algren survived, but because he knows he didn’t act when it mattered most. This failure has instilled a lingering fear of hesitation, yet paradoxically, it has also made him impulsive in moments of danger, as if trying to atone for his past inaction.
The humiliation at Elias Corvalis’s gathering cut into his confidence in ways no physical wound could. The mocking laughter of the smuggler and his guests reduced Saiid to a figure of ridicule, an outsider who didn’t belong in their world. That night, he learned the sting of social inadequacy, the sharp edge of being seen as less than others. It wasn’t the laughter alone that broke him, but the realization that no amount of stolen finery or feigned confidence could hide the truth of who he was: a street-raised thief, out of his depth in a room full of manipulative elites. The memory gnaws at his self-esteem, leaving him uneasy in any situation where he feels the eyes of others scrutinizing him. He avoids crowds and formal gatherings whenever he can, unwilling to risk the sting of rejection or humiliation again.
Morality & Philosophy
Saiid Grey’s morality is shaped by the harsh realities of his upbringing, a blend of pragmatism, personal codes, and an instinctual aversion to unnecessary cruelty. He believes in survival above all else but refuses to abandon a sense of decency in the process. To Saiid, morality is not dictated by lofty ideals or religious doctrines but by the simple principle of not causing harm without purpose. He steals because he must, but he avoids targeting those who can’t afford to lose what little they have. His sense of right and wrong is deeply personal, forged in the slums of Varanthia where survival often meant making impossible choices.
He views power with skepticism, seeing it as both a tool and a burden. His encounters with the ruin creature and the gang violence of his youth taught him that strength alone does not justify action—it must be tempered with responsibility. He loathes bullies and tyrants, whether they be petty enforcers or noble lords, and while he doesn’t see himself as a hero, he finds himself compelled to stand against those who abuse their power. Saiid's philosophy is one of self-reliance mixed with an undercurrent of quiet compassion. He doesn’t seek to change the world, but he believes in making choices that preserve his humanity, even when the world tempts him to abandon it.
Though he has little love for formal philosophy or religion, Saiid reflects deeply on his actions and their consequences. He holds himself accountable for his failures and rarely blames fate or external forces. This introspection makes him a man of few words but many thoughts, often second-guessing himself and struggling to reconcile his past with his hopes for a better future. His view of the world is inherently gray; he recognizes that everyone has their reasons, even those who do wrong, but he refuses to let that excuse evil when he sees it.
Taboos
Saiid's life is governed by a set of unspoken taboos—lines he refuses to cross, no matter the circumstances. Chief among them is a staunch refusal to harm children or those unable to defend themselves. Growing up among the vulnerable taught him the value of protecting those who cannot protect themselves, and he carries that principle with him as a non-negotiable rule. He also avoids unnecessary killing, believing that death should never be inflicted out of convenience or vengeance alone. Every life he’s taken weighs on him, and he remembers the face of each person who has fallen by his hand.
Another of Saiid's personal taboos is the use of ruin magic or any power that warps the natural order. His own experience with ruin taint left him with a deep mistrust of its corrupting influence. To him, such forces are an abomination, a reminder of his darkest moments, and he will go to great lengths to avoid them or stop their use when he encounters them. He also draws a firm line against betraying the trust of those who have shown him kindness. In a world that often taught him to trust no one, the rare moments of genuine compassion he’s received are sacred to him, and he would never repay them with treachery.
Finally, Saiid abhors acts of humiliation or degradation inflicted on others for amusement or power. His own experiences of being mocked and belittled, particularly at the hands of Elias Corvalis, left him with a visceral hatred for those who take pleasure in the suffering or shame of others. He will not partake in such acts, nor will he stand idly by if he witnesses them. Though his moral compass is flexible in many ways, these taboos remain firm, defining the boundaries of who he is and who he refuses to become.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Saiid Grey’s motivation springs from a quiet yearning to carve out meaning in a world that has offered him little beyond hardship and loss. Although he has no grand visions of heroism or lofty ideals, he is driven by a desire to reconcile his brutal past with a sense of personal dignity. Each small act of decency—protecting the vulnerable, refusing to profit from needless suffering, tempering his might with compassion—allows him to push back against the notion that he must be defined by cruelty or fear. He seeks, above all, to find a place where his strength can serve more than his own survival, where moral choices truly matter, and where the scars he carries may finally represent lessons rather than regrets.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Saiid's natural instincts make him a formidable force when it comes to physical tasks or matters of survival. His Half-Gor heritage and years of streetwise living have honed his ability to read situations quickly, maneuver through danger, and excel in acts of brute strength. Whether it’s breaking through barriers, navigating the shadowed alleys of a city, or deciphering the subtle rhythms of the earth through his tremorsense, he operates with an almost animalistic precision. However, his sharp intuition in these areas is offset by glaring ineptitudes. His lack of formal education leaves him fumbling in intellectual pursuits, and his discomfort with social nuances often exposes him to ridicule or manipulation in more refined circles. Saiid's strengths are primal, but his weaknesses lie in anything that demands finesse of mind or etiquette of tongue.
Likes & Dislikes
Saiid's likes are simple and grounded in practicality. He finds solace in quiet spaces, the reassuring weight of a sturdy weapon in his hands, and the sensation of the earth’s vibrations beneath his feet. He appreciates honesty in action, whether it comes from a noble ally or a bitter enemy, and cherishes rare moments of camaraderie with those who accept him as he is. Conversely, he harbors a deep dislike for arrogance, deceit, and those who prey on the weak. The cold waters of rivers and seas, reminders of his near-drowning as a child, unsettle him, and he finds seafood revolting, associating its briny scent with unpleasant memories. Saiid avoids the pomp and grandeur of nobility, resenting how it contrasts with the harsh realities of his upbringing.
Virtues & Personality perks
Despite his rough exterior, Saiid is deeply principled in his own quiet way. He values loyalty and honesty, even when they cost him, and his unspoken code drives him to protect those weaker than himself. His remarkable strength and endurance make him a reliable ally in the heat of battle, and his years of surviving on the fringes have gifted him with unshakable resilience. Saiid's fierce determination ensures he rarely backs down from a challenge, and his capacity for reflection, though underdeveloped, shows glimpses of a man who strives to learn from his failures. Though his virtues are often understated, they shine through in his actions, earning respect from those who look past his flaws.
Vices & Personality flaws
Saiid's vices stem from the same inner struggles that have shaped his resilience. He often drowns his frustrations in cheap liquor, seeking the brief numbness it offers against the weight of his memories and failures. His temper, while usually simmering beneath the surface, can flare uncontrollably when provoked, leading him to make reckless decisions. Saiid also has a tendency to withdraw when overwhelmed, avoiding meaningful connections or responsibilities out of fear of failure or betrayal. These vices, though rarely acknowledged aloud, are constant shadows in his life, threatening to unravel the progress he has made in his journey toward purpose and redemption.
Beneath Saiid's imposing strength lies a man plagued by doubt and guilt, unable to fully forgive himself for his past mistakes. His lack of formal education and poor grasp of abstract concepts leave him struggling to navigate complex problems, making him reliant on instinct over strategy. Saiid's introversion and soft-spoken nature are often mistaken for weakness, putting him at a disadvantage in social interactions where confidence is key. He is deeply self-critical, and his refusal to lean on others for support isolates him, stunting his emotional growth. These flaws make him a man striving for greatness but constantly battling the weight of his own limitations.
Personality Quirks
Saiid has a subtle but persistent habit of flexing his fingers as if testing their strength, a quiet reminder of his constant awareness of his physicality. When he feels cornered or unsure, he taps his foot against the ground, using his tremorsense to ground himself, even if no immediate danger exists. He also has a peculiar quirk of tilting his head slightly to the right when contemplating something deeply, as if physically leaning into his thoughts. Though introverted, his rare smiles are fleeting yet genuine, often accompanied by a slight clenching of his fists, as though bracing himself for vulnerability.
Hygiene
While Saiid's rough upbringing might suggest otherwise, he maintains a disciplined approach to hygiene. Years of living in close quarters with others have taught him the importance of cleanliness to avoid disease. He bathes whenever possible, though his aversion to water makes it more of a chore than a comfort. His attire, though practical and often patched, is always well-maintained, free of stains and grime, reflecting his respect for order amid the chaos of his life. The faint scent of leather and iron often clings to him, a byproduct of his lifestyle and equipment.
Representation & Legacy
Saiid Grey represents the tension between survival and honor, a figure who embodies the struggle to rise above the shadows of one's past without succumbing to despair. To those who know him, he is a symbol of quiet resilience, proving that strength is not just about physical might but the determination to carry one's burdens and continue forward. Though he shuns the idea of leaving a grand legacy, his actions ripple outward, inspiring whispers of a man who protects the downtrodden and confronts his inner demons. Whether his story ends in redemption or ruin, Saiid's legacy will be defined by his unyielding refusal to surrender to the darkness within or around him.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Saiid's network of contacts is as fragmented and multifaceted as his past. In Varanthia, he maintains a tenuous connection with Markus Halyard, the city guard who once bested him. Despite their rocky history, the two share an unspoken truce; Markus has turned a blind eye to Saiid's activities on more than one occasion, seemingly acknowledging his moral code. This relationship is rooted less in trust and more in a begrudging respect.
Among the slums, Algren, the elderly beggar Saiid failed to protect, remains a haunting reminder of his shortcomings. Though the two rarely speak, Algren’s survival is a thread that binds them. On occasion, Saiid has been seen slipping coin or food into the old man’s hands, an act of quiet penance.
In the criminal underworld, Saiid is known to Elias Corvalis, the smuggler who humiliated him publicly. While their interaction was far from amicable, Elias recognizes Saiid's potential as an enforcer or ally. Saiid, however, keeps his distance, wary of becoming entangled in the deeper machinations of the Varanthian elite.
Since arriving in Eryndor, Saiid has begun forging tentative relationships. A sympathetic blacksmith named Caeric Warden, impressed by Saiid's imposing figure and unusual weapon requests, has taken a liking to him. Caeric often gives Saiid work in exchange for materials or coin, though their conversations rarely go beyond professional matters.
Saiid's most peculiar contact is a Kalevalaian deserter known only as Svarn, who trades in rumors and survival tips. Their relationship is strictly transactional, with Svarn offering knowledge of Kalevalaian movements in exchange for Saiid's aid in remaining hidden from his former kin. The alliance is fragile, as both harbor deep mistrust for one another.
Family Ties
Saiid Grey’s family ties are tenuous at best and fractured beyond repair at worst. His birth was marked by abandonment; his mother left him on the doorstep of a crumbling boarding house in Blackhollow, and his father’s identity remains a mystery. Though he bears the surname Grey—a mark of illegitimacy in Varanthia—it carries no emotional weight for him, as it serves only as a reminder of his disconnected lineage. Despite this, he sometimes wonders about his parents' choices and whether they knew of the strength and heritage they passed on to him. The closest thing to family he ever had were the street beggars and orphans who shared what little they could in his early years, forming bonds of necessity rather than affection. These fragile connections taught him that loyalty, while rare, could still exist in the harshest of circumstances.
Religious Views
Religion holds little sway over Saiid. Raised in the shadow of Varanthian militarism and pragmatism, he never placed his faith in gods or higher powers. To him, the divine are indifferent to mortal struggles, and survival has always depended on one's own strength and cunning. The pervasive influence of the Nine Talons in the Imperial Core leaves him unimpressed, as their doctrines of divine destiny feel like empty platitudes to someone who has lived clawing for every scrap of dignity. His encounter with Ruin magic, however, has instilled in him a profound unease about supernatural forces. While he doesn’t fear them in the conventional sense, he holds a deep-seated aversion to magic’s corrupting potential, especially when it is wielded recklessly or maliciously. If he has any guiding philosophy, it is a belief in personal accountability and the notion that true power lies not in prayer, but in action.
Social Aptitude
Saiid navigates social interactions with caution and restraint, his towering presence often making him an imposing figure in any room. While he is soft-spoken, his intense gaze and carefully chosen words carry a weight that commands attention when he chooses to speak. He has a natural knack for reading people’s intentions, a skill honed by years of surviving in Varanthia’s underbelly. However, his blunt demeanor and lack of formal education leave him at a disadvantage in high-society settings, where wit and decorum reign supreme. His rough edges are most apparent in situations requiring charm or finesse, where his sincerity and honesty often clash with the subtleties of noble or manipulative discourse. Despite this, his moral code and quiet intensity draw others to him, earning him respect among those who value actions over words. Saiid thrives in environments where loyalty and strength matter more than eloquence, but he remains acutely aware of his social limitations and works around them with pragmatic humility.
Mannerisms
Saiid moves with deliberate control, every gesture marked by his size and strength. He often keeps his hands clasped or resting on his knees when seated, as though wary of accidentally breaking something delicate. When thinking or uncertain, he unconsciously rubs the scarred nub of his pinky finger, a habit born from the encounter that cost him part of it. His soft-spoken nature contrasts with the intensity of his gaze; when he speaks, he often locks eyes with whoever he’s addressing, an unintentional but disarming habit that makes his words carry extra weight. Despite his imposing frame, he often shrinks into himself in crowded spaces, instinctively trying to minimize his presence to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.
Hobbies & Pets
Saiid has no pets, though he occasionally finds himself drawn to stray animals, offering them scraps of food when he can. He has a quiet fascination with birds, their freedom in the sky contrasting sharply with his grounded and burdened existence. As for hobbies, Saiid's life has left little room for leisure, but he finds solace in practical crafts. He enjoys repairing old tools and creating makeshift items from scraps, finding the act of building or restoring something oddly therapeutic. In moments of rare peace, he likes to climb to high places and observe the city from above, letting the hum of life beneath him drown out his lingering doubts and fears.
Speech
Saiid's speech is calm and measured, often slow as though he’s carefully considering every word before speaking. His voice carries a deep, resonant quality, further accentuated by his subdued tone, which can make him seem timid to those who don’t know him. However, when angered or forced into confrontation, his voice gains a sharp edge, carrying an undeniable authority. His vocabulary is practical and straightforward, with little embellishment or formality, reflective of his lack of formal education. Despite this, there’s a quiet wisdom in his words, and his blunt honesty often catches people off guard. Saiid rarely uses contractions, giving his speech an unusual rhythm that can make even casual comments sound oddly deliberate.
Species
Conditions
Ethnicity
Date of Birth
8th of Irelate
Year of Birth
15688
62 Years old
Birthplace
Blackhollow, a rundown settlement pressed hard against the coastal edges of the Alvina District.
Family
Children
Current Residence
A modest, stone-walled dwelling on the outskirts of Caerwyn in Eryndor
Pronouns
He/him
Sex
Male
Gender
Man
Presentation
Masculine
Eyes
Electric Violet
Hair
Apple Blossom
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Matrix Brown
Height
11'11
Character Prototype
Imagine a lone figure looming in a dimly lit alley, taller than any guard and more resilient than the worn cobblestones beneath his feet. He is not a shining knight, nor a villain cloaked in menace, but something raw and in-between—an outsider who has forged his own moral compass from the scraps of a brutal world. His weapons are simple, his attire unadorned, yet every scar and subtle quirk betrays a life hard-fought and lessons deeply learned. In Saiid Grey, one sees the rough-hewn statue of a survivor: no polished hero, no refined noble, just a man who has endured, adapted, and grown powerful enough to bend fate’s iron bars with his own two hands.
The Journal Entry’s title
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