"Pour me another, and listen well..."
Species: Human
Height: 6'0 / 182cm
detective. investigator. finger. neutral evil.
Statistic and Skill Scores
| STRENGTH +0 | DEXTERITY +1 | INTELLIGENCE +1 | HARMONY +0 |
|---|---|---|---|
| Fortitude +1 Athletics +1 Forging -2 | Acrobatics +1 Stealth +0 Thievery +0 | Healing +0 Perception +3 Research +0 | Arcana -2 Nature +0 Belief -2 |
A Piercing Gaze Years of experience hone the insight and perceptive skills of Corwin. A steely eyed gaze drinks in his environment and the behaviour of those around him, the cogs of his mind endlessly turning to make assumptions and deductions about each he meets. Whilst such thoughts are unlikely to ever leave the confines of his mind, they are true more often than not, his keen senses saving his hide more than once from unfortunate encounters. A Gaining Physique Having been healed and restored by magical surgery, the clock has been turned back on the formerly frail and crippled detective. Heavy scarring may still trail from jaw to finger tip, and down to his knee on his left side, but the damage beneath has for the most part been dealt with. No longer struggling to walk, he is able to train and push his body back to its limits as he chases the ghost of his prior strength. Dismissive Faithless Despite the obvious truth to the faith of many, Corwin is rarely one to turn to piety beyond sour words and adages. His belief in the arcane and mystical have suffered at the hands of his misfortune in the Valks which led to his poor physical condition. If the so called powers-that-be would allow such to plague him, why would he care for their favour?
Feats:
Eyes That See - Spotter The detective's eye is often prized, and Corwin's remains no different. Some details sit in plain sight around us, and Corwin is acutely aware of this. By applying his experience in uncovering these ignored leads, he is able to observe his environments with greater chances of a result. Weak Spots - Harder Punch Reclaiming a lost physique slowly through training since his recovery by magical surgery, Corwin is slowly regaining his strength and constitution from his previous life. A seasoned bar-room brawler and familiar with getting information out of especially stubborn leads, he knows just where to place his strikes for the most impact.
Current Face claim by Terry Wei
Portrait by me
Lineless Challenge by me
Scar Map by me
Peeper Corwin by me
Jojo Art Challenge by me
Various Sketches by me
PARKER ART MY BELOVED
PARKER ART MY BELOVED
CONNECTIONS
Olivier — friend..?
"Somehow she seems to have her fingers in every pie. Each place I see crop up, her name is there already on the docket. She must be awfully busy, but to be busy is to be knowledgeable." Petrus — friend..?
"Rarely seen, yet a pleasure each time. We finally managed to connect the dots of our meandering and make official his part in my work." Marcel — acquaintance
"We may not speak very often, but I am always glad to see him from afar cutting through crowds and living a less worried life." Locke — friend ♪
"She gets it, and that's all that really matters. Somehow knew that I needed dragging out, and it was more refreshing than anything else in the last few weeks." Marguerite — acquaintance
"Iskvandar's twin and Yarrow's business partner. I wish I had more to say, but she was amenable to my proposal at the very least." Loth — acquaintance
"What an oddity he is. He is an unsolvable puzzle to me, the words are spoken but they seem not to register. He deals in a realm I have never stepped foot in. All so intriguing." Èibhlin — acquaintance
"It is a rarity that I struggle to track someone down when I wish to speak with them, yet somehow we manage it. I enjoyed our talk, and hope for more." Seley — acquaintance
"Hardly feels right to say a child is my friend, but she is as close as one can get I suppose. A similar interest in alchemical pursuits, a bright mind being nurtured but... perhaps guidance is needed, given what I saw recently."
Aeliana — friend
"It seems the pains have healed and given way for a more budding friendship, exactly as I had hoped to come of the brief hurt between us." Elreyna — friend ..?
"I am glad to see her happy, truly. There is something in her step that was missing before, off-colour jokes of somone who kept to themselves otherwise now flowing." Konrad — acquaintance
"I've met few who work harder than he, yet he seems to hold distaste for it. In such a place, the work is to be expected, yet he still turns his nose up at it. Strange." Veena — acquaintance
"Unpredictable to say the least. Short words, and a shorter leash - I do not hear good things, only worrying." Hazel — acquaintance
"She may not be one of my closer companions within the shadow of the Spire, but she is consistent. Perhaps we could grow closer - friends even." Rott — acquaintance
"Again lost to that unseen. I would have thought he'd make more of this all, the aftermath and chance for peace with some threats taken to create a better peace by facing the others..." Eivor — friend...
"A mirror for all my worst thoughts, though no fault of his own. Nothing more to say, that hasn't been drown in venom already." Ren — friend..?
"I admit, having a fluffy companion made it far easier to slip past my usual guard. They seem to have a good heart, a golden innocence and want to not offend anyone. Its rather cute, honestly. I hope they are around more."
Myra — acquaintance
"A close friend of those I care for, she is considered from afar. We shared in the trials together, and the threads were exposed some for my picking at, yet I feel it unfair to do so, without knowing her more." Helara — friend..?
"I admit, it is odd to speak about her the same from the softer side I have seen lately. Seeing her with Ink is refreshing. The contrast in them, yet shared respect and care. A sharp mind." Yarrow — acquaintance
"The pieces did not fall into place, and the more I learn about her from others the better off I am believed to be from it. Quite funny that it remains a sore spot, but I'm sure we could laugh about it eventually." 'Ink' — acquaintance
"A hard one to pin down, which I really ought not be surprised by given our similarity in work. There is a side to her I didn't expect, something almost innocent, cloying yet hidden behind honour and self judgement. I will pry it free, slowly." Koreander — f̷̤̫̽ṟ̴͕i̶̱̝̿̚ė̴͓ñ̶̹d̵̮̏̎ ♪
"And when the end came,
It brought with it that dull ache,
as he let her go." Delroy — p̴̹̣͛̅ā̴̜r̶̬͓̽t̵̬̄ņ̶̟͌ë̸̡́̌r̵̡̝̚ ♪
"The aches continue. Mistakes pile up. He meant so much, and yet it still wasn't enough for me. I should have been writing you poetry, but my ink has run dry." Trish / TJ — dear friend ♪
"Hurt hearts often find one another. She was search many for someone to fill the void... and it seems I made quite the impression. It is a complication of things I didn't expect at all."
Iskvandar — dear friend ♪
"Few have successfully drawn me into traps as he has. A luring by word and near missed touches. It bites and twists within me, unspoken as it is. Perhaps this venture will see it finally come into the light..?" Ser Adrian — friend
"A hardy knight whom I am rather fortunate to have befriended. Their wit and guile are as sharp as the blades he uses. A shame they saw my failings, it was rather embarrassing." Parsnip — friend
"His wit is a dry and sharp as I love, and he has no shame in rattling my cage too when the need arises. I was fortunate to see a performance of his recently, I really should have taken the offer that day in the tavern - it was quite fun." Callista — dear friend ♪
"Time heals wounds, that much I very well know. We do not speak much in the wake of what happened, which I regret, but I see how my gift is cared for... and that is enough. Perhaps we'll work together again, and speak freely once more." Drenmir — dear friend ♪
"I feel guilt for blaming you for things. In truth, there was no blame to be held at anyone for what happened. I am glad we are able to even share a space again, and happier still that we can speak as friends, teased words and all." Falliren — friend
"We were fortunate enough to rekindle despite the terse words we shared before. I am glad, for all his showboating he does care, somewhere beneath the façade." Atticus — acquaintance
"Only met it seems through strange chance encounters, yet intriguing nonetheless. He was amenable the first time, yet the second I couldn't help but feel I'd earnt his ire. Was my skill at horseshoes so souring, really?"
NPCS
Haven't you heard what happens, when you stick your nose in?
This biography contains some backstory spoilers for Corwin. Read at your own warning.
The Midlands of the Eastern continent were known for two things more than anything else - the bustle of civilisation and the dominance of trade by the Valkians. Their realm was rife with travellers arriving in droves to sell their wares at one of the cities on their way to the next, but such dealings were not the only way crowns exchanged hands. Beyond the colourful face the Valks bore, haggling away between the peels of ships arriving with yet more traders and travellers alike, there were those that worked instead in shadow. With goods likely to land them in hot water with the guardsmen of cities like Mariza, they instead found darkened taverns away from the public's eye to peddle not just illicit goods, but also prized information.Among those that dealt in such was Corwin, known simply as 'The Eye' to those he was on less friendly terms with. The pale haired self-proclaimed detective made his money through the trade of secrets and information not so easily sought. It was uneasy business at the best of times - a reputation of being trustworthy is hard to forge when your business instead implies a lack of such. His safety among dark dealings was instead held by his association with more dangerous names in the underbelly of the cities he passed between.On the surface, exposed to the light and forced to act inline with local laws his business was actually rather legitimate, though the profit in such work was meagre. Cheating spouses, businessmen making traitorous dealings on the side, and people going missing after one too many ales were as exciting as it got when dealing with the public. Corwin's reputation allowed him steady work so long as he could stomach delving into the private lives of those who called upon him.Such a reputation eventually would draw the attention of a client who would leave his indelible mark upon the so-called detective.
This man gave Corwin a job, his identity hidden like many before him to avoid whispers of his presence in the dodgier parts of the city. This job like many before it required nimble fingers to tumble a lock or two in order to gather the private papers of a wealthy socialite, and promised to pay enough to keep Corwin from needing to deal in the market of secrets for quite some time, should he be successful. The 'detective' could have laughed - a job so simple to him offering so much might've raised eyebrows in any other circumstance but the details were so plainly given it was hard to believe anything could truly go wrong.But wrong it did go; the papers were easily lifted from a private study, window and desk draw locks pried open with the standard array of tools, but it was their delivery that held the dagger in the dark. The client couldn't afford loose ends, after all, Corwin would understand of course why he had to die. A spiked drink offered in celebration all too brazenly drank sent a virulent poison into the crackling veins of the soon to be forgotten detective, veins turned black as the corrosive tonic leeched into his core. He was cast out into the street to meet his fate, another unfortunate soul who would be found days later by some passing drunk on their way home.Perhaps it had been luck that saw that the one who found him was instead a disgraced doctor from across the world, Corwin's own deus ex machina who was able to save him from the brink. Such intervention rarely comes without its toll of course, and the doctor was no miracle worker; he may have saved Corwin from death but his life from then on would be a hardship known by all who looked upon him from then on.His eventual return to his dective work was difficult, no longer the spry cat-burglar who could clamber onto a high window's ledge to peek into the lives of others he settled into his resentful life of menial jobs, dulled much like his own spark. The eventual call of a job which would take him away from all those he knew to a new locale was taken, leading him beyond The Wall for the first time in his life...
CORE
BIRTH NAME Corwin Aurelias Heath NICKNAME/ALIAS Cor, Coco, Detective AGE Late 20s DATE OF BIRTH 20th of Snowmelt ZODIAC The Pale Steed GENDER & PRONOUNS Male, He/Him ORIENTATION Bisexual RACE/ETHNICITY Human / Valkian
BACKGROUND
NATIONALITY Midlands HOMETOWN Mariza OCCUPATION "Detective" CURRENT RESIDENCE The Full Cask LANGUAGES Common, some Elvish Hobbies Whittling, gambling, writing
PHYSICAL
HEIGHT 6’0” WEIGHT 170 lbs. HAIR Platinum Blonde EYES Steel Gray SCARS Many, primarily on his left side PIERCINGS Left Ear TATTOOS None FACE CLAIM Here
PERSONAL
POSITIVE TRAITS
- trait NEUTRAL TRAITS
- trait NEGATIVE TRAITS
- trait TEMPERAMENT Melancholic / Quiet
Belongings
The Notebook Sentimental
Battered and split, the leather of this journal has seen burning sun and ruinious downpour alike. Clearly it has seen better days, with self-repairs made to keep the bindings together and pages from falling apart. Blue frayed threads have been run through the larger splits in the leather, keeping the cover together despite its scars. Tonics Necessary
Formerly these tonics and tinctures were common place for Corwin to use as in self-medicating his condition. Now, they remain affixed to his belt granting him to access on the fly to some of his wares. Others are now the recipient, unless he himself finds an urgent need, so their nature has changed from a focus on abating pain to more general concerns.
Personality Silver Tongued, Prying Eyed.
Corwin's sharp tongue has gotten him into trouble more times than he can count. Often wielding his wit in conversation, he can put himself at odds with people unintentionally - especially so when his wit turns into goading or brazen flirtation even with complete strangers. Words of admiration and the pet-names that are more common place with close relationships flow freely, a marker of his self confidence, and self assurance that the same tongue that lands him in hot water can as easily find him his way out of it. He does not deny his physicality being an unfair advantage in avoiding conflict, using it as necessary to weave his way out of the ire of those he angers or frustrates.His former work in the Midlands has also in turn led him to develop a knack for unravelling people through careful observation. Providing himself as a calm presence unwittingly lures people into a sense of security where he can percept their points of self conscious thought, their behavioural tics, and their cornerstone beliefs. This information rarely leaves the confines of his mind, but his bad habit of over-analysing can sometimes become irritating, especially when he is presumptive and proven wrong.
On a night like this, you really oughtn't be alone.
A crescent moon. Her tongue is silver, her words ambrosia.
The quiet of the lodge when the others were away was a comfort. The gentle crackle of distant embers in the hearths throughout, a few torches lit spitting sooty grey-black smoke up to leave their imprint on the wood of the ceiling above. Dancing figures cast from the flicker of flames bouncing off the array of skulls and hunters trophies the Duathrim collected. And there among it all, silently working in the bowels of the lodge was the detective. He'd taken to working here, among the shadows and iron taste in the air from the dried blood and healing hunters in their bunks. It was an odd comfort he didn't really understand - he was used to being alone with only the distant shouts of drunkards and ne'er-do-wells in Mariza's streets, and yet since coming to the Southern Reach companionship had been a bubbling want in the back of his mind. Perhaps time had began to claw at his mind, a touch-starved need growing. Perhaps it was his struggle still with coming to terms with how his body had been twisted and broken, the worst of it kept hidden beneath his clothes. He washed his hands in the murky water of the sink, a gentle lapping bouncing off the walls."Now who let you in here?" A fireplace, mismatched glasses and a bottle of half-decent wine.
Had it truly been so long, that the all seeing eyes of the battered detective had been turned blind by someone like her? It made no sense. He was never rarely like this. Why was she so special? What was it about her that made him stutter like a fool, lose his composure and melt to the lightest touch. Some thrill behind it, it must be - she was with another herself but she took the steps same as he did. The same teasing, the dance around the subject with honeyed words and ghosting touches. So close and yet denied the sealing of it - the confirming that it wasn't some great tease till those words spilt from the fountain. She was an altar for him to worship at. Every syllable, every vowel was a nectar he couldn't help but let draw him in further and further.Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck O' heart, be still. Your beat is far too strong.
The lodge was quiet once again, the distant stirring of the hunters in their bunks below muted by the bonds of wood and stone, and yet the pounding was deafening. Scarred fingers traced deeper wounds below, a pulsing raging core beneath vying to burst free. The pain ebbed, the adrenaline rush pushing it out and letting the usual agonising breaths flow unhindered as the analytical broker trying to piece together how the events had transpired. Was it planned, did she know? For how long? Was it practiced, how he observed others had she been doing the same to him to see how to unravel him? Undo him? The beat began to steady, and the twinges of poorly healed ribs and hacked away muscle started to bleed in again.