|Class:||Bloodrager, Deathwrought Bloodline 10|
This hulking, muscular Sith-Makar stands at an imposing seven foot two, silver scales so shiny one could see their reflection in them. Silver eyes lack the luster of life most have, and long fangs poke out from his maw. A large pendant of a dragon's profile dangles from a silver chain on his neck, coupled with a red scale looped onto it.
A silvery breastplate covers his torso, as well as plates along his thick tail and upper legs. His arms are left bare, bite scars from a large maw present on his forearms. When prepared for fighting, a small armory of weapons dangles from his back and various bandoliers, most notable is that of an ominous looking halberd. A medal of valor is affixed firmly to his armor, and strapped to his left shoulder is a magically preserved cryohydra head, acting as a pauldron.
Unarmored, Skielstregar wears a simple brown tunic and pants with his silver chained holy symbol and red scale on his neck, and a silver bangle affixed midway on his tail. The ominous halberd is constantly at hand or nearby.
A man of paradox. Skielstregar is a once-paladin of Daeus that now harbors the insanity and undeath of Charneth creations. He used to be worse off, with a Hunger that made his chipping, tarnished scales and deathly aura almost unapproachable. But with the help of friends, and a gift from a little gold one, he's picked himself back up and tries to exude positivity and be a shining (literally) example for others.
Just don't upset him. The undead half never lingers far.
- Shiny Silverscale: He's really shiny. Like, you could see your reflection in his scales.
- Live in the Light: While not a proper Sunblade, he does his best to act like one. Live through the Dragonfather by being in his shadow.
- While being in His Shadow: There's a lot off about him. Dead eyes. Fangs that shouldn't be present. A chill standing next to him, and the scent of death near him. But he tries to not let that get to him.
- A Looming Weapon: He keeps a halberd beside him at all times, a jagged crack down the axehead offering a smile at the strangest of times. It talks, citing respect and reverence to the Dragonfather, and takes no disrespect in any manner.
"By Hisss light, thisss one isss in control. They promissse."