Fray
| Age 42 |
| Gender Barely feminine |
| Origin South Illica |
| Occupation Mercenary |
"What? I hit stuff with swords for a living, what did you expect?"
Appearance
| Height 6' |
| Build Lethal |
| Hair Dark Green |
| Eyes Black & Gold |
Tall, dark, and mean, Fray is built for violence. She's all hard lines and angles, from the cut of her jaw to the deadly length of her reach. The life of a wandering mercenary leaves something to be desired in way of quality nutrition and respite, adding a leanness to her form and occasional smudgy eyed exhaustion after a long night of Blight-knows-what. Still, there's no hiding her broad shoulders and impressive biceps. Especially not in the middle of yet another impromptu arm wrestling competition—one of Fray's less dangerous strategies to afford that night's dinner.
Fray's clothes are as dark and practical as she is, with her two most loyal companions—Longboy and Fang—strapped to her back and side. Though Fang's smaller hilt is what she tends to reach for in close quarters, her long, powerful legs more than compensate for the shorter blade.
Her profession may leave her in a near constant state of roughed up, but Fray is a fanatical keeper of her blades. Longboy always gleams, his edges sharp and grip tidily wrapped, and there's nary a rattle from Fang's silvery rivets, despite the frequent, violent impact they endure. Every time she fights, her black horns, rising up and over inky green hair, glint beneath the dance of metal.
During the day, Fray's eyes are the flat black of a professional murderer. But in the dark, with even the smallest glow of fire or moonlight, her eyes flash gold like an altogether different sort of predator. Her heritage is textbook in its blatancy: sharp nails, deadly canines, and a scaled tail that always ruins her attempts at a perfect poker face. She'll never be accused of being beautiful, but there is a definite handsomeness to her, albeit in an intense, sort of murdery and unsettling way.
As ruthless as life necessitates she be, Fray tries not to make a habit of relying on her great beast form. Partly because she's tired of having to find new clothes, and mainly because there's no stopping her precious swords from sliding off the smooth, curved carapaces of her beastly back. One could call her other self a large cat, if one believed any cat could have a serpentine face with scorpion like armor on its otherwise scaly back. Frankly, Fray thinks she looks more like a dragon of old, just...much more miniature. Aaand definitely a little f***** up. But, on further reflection, she can concede that there is some feline quality to the way Monster Fray moves. Quiet, liquid, completely in defiance of her bulk and build.
Fray's clothes are as dark and practical as she is, with her two most loyal companions—Longboy and Fang—strapped to her back and side. Though Fang's smaller hilt is what she tends to reach for in close quarters, her long, powerful legs more than compensate for the shorter blade.
Her profession may leave her in a near constant state of roughed up, but Fray is a fanatical keeper of her blades. Longboy always gleams, his edges sharp and grip tidily wrapped, and there's nary a rattle from Fang's silvery rivets, despite the frequent, violent impact they endure. Every time she fights, her black horns, rising up and over inky green hair, glint beneath the dance of metal.
During the day, Fray's eyes are the flat black of a professional murderer. But in the dark, with even the smallest glow of fire or moonlight, her eyes flash gold like an altogether different sort of predator. Her heritage is textbook in its blatancy: sharp nails, deadly canines, and a scaled tail that always ruins her attempts at a perfect poker face. She'll never be accused of being beautiful, but there is a definite handsomeness to her, albeit in an intense, sort of murdery and unsettling way.
As ruthless as life necessitates she be, Fray tries not to make a habit of relying on her great beast form. Partly because she's tired of having to find new clothes, and mainly because there's no stopping her precious swords from sliding off the smooth, curved carapaces of her beastly back. One could call her other self a large cat, if one believed any cat could have a serpentine face with scorpion like armor on its otherwise scaly back. Frankly, Fray thinks she looks more like a dragon of old, just...much more miniature. Aaand definitely a little f***** up. But, on further reflection, she can concede that there is some feline quality to the way Monster Fray moves. Quiet, liquid, completely in defiance of her bulk and build.
Personality
Staying alive is costly at best and downright miserable at worst. Fray has neither time nor energy to spare for anything she considers to be nonsense, which is an intentionally broad term that encompasses much of the known world.
The Devahni enjoys three things more than anything else in life: good booze, good company, and good fights. Losing is for the dead and resting for the weak or properly inebriated, and she always strives to be the last. Because of this, Fray is known to be fairly unflappable, right up until something flips her lid at just the right angle and all calamity breaks loose.
It isn't so much that she lacks finesse. She just can't be bothered. If you find the right motivation, however, there's very little Fray can't or won't do. She just has to want it bad enough, and then the impossible becomes possible. Or, at least it does in her mind.
Sure, Fray can be brash and sometimes more than a little reckless. But if you bribe her enough, she'll have your back, right up until your bribe either runs dry or loses its shine.
The Devahni enjoys three things more than anything else in life: good booze, good company, and good fights. Losing is for the dead and resting for the weak or properly inebriated, and she always strives to be the last. Because of this, Fray is known to be fairly unflappable, right up until something flips her lid at just the right angle and all calamity breaks loose.
It isn't so much that she lacks finesse. She just can't be bothered. If you find the right motivation, however, there's very little Fray can't or won't do. She just has to want it bad enough, and then the impossible becomes possible. Or, at least it does in her mind.
Sure, Fray can be brash and sometimes more than a little reckless. But if you bribe her enough, she'll have your back, right up until your bribe either runs dry or loses its shine.
Skills
Fray feels most competent with her longsword, but her messer, Fang, gets her blood pumping the most. There's just something about being that much closer to your enemies, with your offhand free to do what it pleases and feet in constant motion to prepare for a lethal lunge, that makes her whole body tingle with anticipation.
During her long career as a hired hand, she has learned certain tricks of the trade, such as interrogating, light torturing, and even sailing. Though, after her last stint on the open waters, the Devahni is feeling particularly landbound and not keen on revisiting whatever fresh horror awaits in those watery depths.
Other than fighting to someone else's bloody, bitter end, Fray is also highly skilled in consuming large quantities food, drinking herself into oblivion, and a smattering of adjacent night time activities.
During her long career as a hired hand, she has learned certain tricks of the trade, such as interrogating, light torturing, and even sailing. Though, after her last stint on the open waters, the Devahni is feeling particularly landbound and not keen on revisiting whatever fresh horror awaits in those watery depths.
Other than fighting to someone else's bloody, bitter end, Fray is also highly skilled in consuming large quantities food, drinking herself into oblivion, and a smattering of adjacent night time activities.
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