Veron Twelve Tongues - aka "Licks"
Slim, jovial redhead with the gift of gab.
(NOTE: The photo is a placeholder until I can get something drawn up. Additionally, if anyone else would like me to doodle their characters I’m happy to do so!)
Boasting the pale, freckled complexion of the North, Veron Alithe – also known as Veron Twelve Tongues, or Licks to his friends – stands at about 5"10. He’s somewhere in his late teens or early twenties, though he doesn’t know exactly, with the slim and broad-shouldered build of an acrobat. He sports a mop of constantly mussed bright red hair, and delicate features – hazel eyes, more gold than green; long, sweeping lashes; aristocratic cheekbones. His voice carries the husky edge of someone who spends a great deal of time loudly carousing, and despite being imminently private he’s known for his affable and lackadaisical personality.
He tends toward loose linen tunics in bright colors and well-fitted vests and trousers, though he hasn’t managed to shake his predisposition for fur-lined boots despite the warmer clime of Wu-Jian. He carries a modest pack full of carefully wrapped ink vials and a variety of quills and journals. Obsessed with the First Age, Licks takes copious notes on the curios that he collects in case they might prove to be important later. As such, he usually has ink-stains on his hands.
Raised by the Guild, Licks has been honing his skills in the acquisition and sale of priceless artifacts since he was small enough to fit through spaces only a street cat should rightly be able to manage. One of his biggest discoveries to date is a fine whip with a long glittering tongue and an ornately carved metal handle. The flourishes and curls gleam with the iridescent hues of star-metal, cut through with splashes of milky blue jade. In deference to his quest for the Truth of the First Age, Licks named the whip Veris and carries it on his person always.
For a person known for their affinity for conversation Licks is startlingly close-mouthed about himself, and he guards the details of his life ruthlessly. He has a handful of enemies, many acquaintances, and yet more business associates, but very few he counts truly among his friends. Even those few often find themselves masterfully redirected and distracted if they ever attempt to dig into his private affairs.
Licks doesn’t remember much of his life before the Guild. He had a mother, and she loved him, but his hazy impressions of a bright-eyed woman with the same red hair are fleeting. If he had a father, he never met the man – the only memory of his father that he has is the distasteful curl of his mother’s mouth as she told him that was a stone better left unturned.
Barely more than a toddler when his mother died, Licks would have undoubtedly followed after in the bone-shattering cold of the dark Fajad nights had it not been for the local guild representative, who swept in shortly after his mother had stilled and whisked him away. She owed a debt, she had explained, taking his small hand in hers and leading him to a new life, but this surely repaid it. She was the earliest kindness that Licks knew outside of his mother, and despite spending relatively little time in her presence prior to his education on a fleet of Guild ships, to this day he strives to live by the few guidelines she gave him in his youth. He endeavors in all of his actions to remember her kindness and seeks to honor it in any way he can, no matter how small an act it may be.
Licks spent most of his youth a mop of knotted red curls, hopping between various Guild ships, picking up on the general skills required to steer through the restless seas and gawking at the miraculous artifacts that occasionally passed across the deck. Seafaring merchants are still sailors, and much of Licks’s boisterous personality can be attributed to the crass and colorful medley of roguish men who raised him. The more refined among them endeavored to provide Licks with as much of as an education as they were able and Licks took to his lessons with vigor.
He discovered a knack for languages that the Guild did their best to foster, providing him with texts from all across the vast continents while he learned, and later allowing him the honor of providing translations where necessary. Throughout the course of his readings, Licks fell in love with the shining glory of the First Age – the high days of magic and heroes and gods traversing the earth. His obsession followed him from his youth into adulthood. Even now he longs to restore that glory, and rains violent retribution upon despots who would abuse the blessed remnants of the past to tyrannize their people.