Sigil: City of Doors

Basic Information
Name: Franklin Smith
Aliases: Frank and Mr. Smith
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 28-31 there was some time spent in the wild where he lost count and he's not quite sure how much time has passed in Sigil compared to his old world.
Profession: Cleric of the Midnight Sun and Golem Crafter
Languages: Human, Dwarven and Celestial, though the celestial is a bit bastardized and the dwarven is an odd dialect from some off world prime.
Accent: <Country Hick?>

Physical Information
Height: 6'4t
Weight: 220
Body build: Frank showed to the cage pretty sickly and scrawny, but since then he has put on a good amount of muscle running in all that platemail.
Skin type: Still rather healthy as the power of his god routinely heals him, even if he is a smoker.
Hair style: He cuts it ever once in a while but rarely notices its there unless he's rubbing his head thinking or worrying.
Scars: He's got plenty from sword fights to plow share accidents, though most of the new wounds get healed by his deity, there's still the old ones.

[b]Hair:[/b] Black [b]Eyes:[/b] Light Green [b]Skin:[/b] White [/li]

Mental Information
Philosophy: Frank doesn't think too much about the world, although if you pry him deeply enough and he trusts you he'll share his thoughts on the Midnight Sun and thus on everything. Mainly he keeps his head down and his thoughts on his projects and friends. He is incredibly loyal and whether he realizes it or not treats those he considers to be friends like they were his old village and family.
Deity/Beliefs: The Midnight Sun based off of Egypt's Amon and Amon Ra and some concepts from astrology.
Personality:

(examples) [u]Productive[/u] [i]Frank is always concerned with whether or not he is being productive. If he doesn't feel like he's putting his time to good use he feels like he's failing though he'd never be able to tell you what he is failing at. As such he rather hates chit-chat and looks down on drinking though he's more than willing to spend some quality time with a select few.[/i] [u]Cautious[/u] [i]Most of the time he'd rather not get involved with overly dangerous unknowns.[/i] [u]Loyal[/u] [i]This is how he gets involved with overly dangerous unknowns.[/i] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: While his gear is of higher quality it is well worn and not particularly fancy, just useful. Sherys' name can be seen however on some of the enchanted pieces.
Habbits/hobbies: Golem making, fundraising and succubus chasing.
General Health: Although he's a smoker and occasionally has a bad cough the healing power of his deity allowing him to avoid most negative side effects.
Favorite Drink: Water, then ale.
Weaknesses: None that you'll know outside of RP.

How long he was gone he could never know. Time flows differently in the planes and the spaces between them. It is only counted by the collection of moments, one strung to another, and these, these had all but slipped away.

He had gone to Limbo to gather news of the escaped Elder Brain. After checking in with the Gith of the monastery; Frank, the pig that follows him, his gargoyle and two of the Gith went deeper into limbo.
Everything blurs then.

They were attacked by Illithid. Powerful psionic and arcane masters he had never seen the likes of.
The Gith who accompanied him were slain and with a gesture one particular Mind Flayer sent him hurtling through the planes, opening a portal into the realms of negation.

How long he was there he will never know. It felt like eons. The plane tore at his wards and slowly destroyed his two companions.

Grumpy crumbled to bits first, Pig was next to go after helping him fight one hoard of shadows after another.

Not having prepared, he was left to the darkness, SherysÂ’s name shining from his shield as he attempted to keep his soul and memories from dissolving into the dark all around.

Just when the last of his wards were fading, thinking himself finished, a prayer to Amun on his lips, and a manta in his mind “ya can’t forget ‘em,” his small skill at finding and opening portals gave him a way out and sent him to Mercuria.

His god he remembered, but other than the words, “ya can’t forget,” he had lost most else. His memories have been stripped from him and he returned a neurotic mess; afraid of shadows, and in fact shadows seem to be following him. All he knew was the name of Sherys and his own name, although he had forgotten why her name was etched onto his shield or truly the person who had inscribed it.

Minerva helped him find the demoness and together with Katani and a Yanti healer the four helped him calm down and recount his tale. Slowly, through the use of magics and the presence of the familiar they were able to bring back some small memory of Sigil and strands of his life before.

The Yanti healer soon discovered that the shadows that followed him were in fact the souls of his companions, as well as some other things that had found him in the dark. These shadows seem to come to his aid now whenever he needs.

His memories are still tattered, and he is slowly discovering that he has forgotten many of his skills, not only in combat and his godÂ’s prayers, but even the building of golems.

But what bothers him more is the sensation in his chest. As if some dark planet, eclipse from the realms of vision, hovers there subtly bending the spaces within with its gravity. There is something unfamiliar about his thoughts, something hollow in his emotions. There is something missing, some core of memory, some piece of self.


For a man who can rarely think or speak of his emotional nature when it is fully present in his awareness, this new sensation of missing something undiscoverable twists all the world about him in an unnerving way.