Sigil: City of Doors

Basic Information
Name: Unpronounceable but if they wish you to know they mentally project an experience of darkness and the smell of dead flesh.
Aliases: The Collector
Gender: non-sexual
Race: Illithid; Mind Flayer
Age: ???
Profession: Necromancer/Collector of knowledge
Faction: none
Languages: Common, Elven, Undercommon, Dwarf, Abyssal.

Physical Information
Height: About 6'-6"
Weight: 122 lbs.
Body build: Typical illithid gaunt/thin limbs and body. Tall. Muscle mass "appears" almost non-existent.
Skin type: Gray moist flesh, as per normal illithid appearance. Flesh feels clammy to the touch.
Hair style: None
Scars: None
Tattoos: None
Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] None [b]Eyes:[/b] Milky-white. [b]Skin:[/b] Gray. [/li]

Mental Information
Alignment: Neutral Evil.
Philosophy: Knowledge is power. To unlock the secrets of anything one must seek out knowledge and lore.
Deity/Beliefs: Serves no deity and has no opinions on them. Is more concerned with its own goals and life.
Personality:

[u]Self-centered[/u] [i]Cares only about themself. All others are below them, or tools/ends to some means.[/i] [u]Curious[/u] [i]Is always studying their surroundings and others, searching for signs which might lead them to worthwhile knowledge or selfish gains.[/i] [u]Careless[/u] [i]Will use anyone for gainful purposes.[/i] [u]Mysterious[/u] [i]Is loathe to give out any important personal information unless there is some worthwhile gain in it for them.[/i] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: Wears black and red robes ornamented by skulls and "deathly" items/symbols.
Habbits/hobbies: Is infatuated with any knowledge regarding death and lichdom.
General Health: No hindering problems.
Favored Food: Brains.
Favorite Drink: Whatever liquids consumed while eating brains.
Weaknesses: Promised knowledge on death or lichdom.

The alleyway of the Hive was dark and dank. Water dripped constantly from some nearby source like a heartbeat giving the area the feeling of being alive. The hiver sat huddled in a corner half-buried under some filthy bug-ridden piece of cloth, probably gotten off a corpse somewhere. He shivered from the cold trying desperately to keep warm and get some sleep.

His eyes opened, darting about at the shadows suddenly sensing something strange...some feeling which interrupted his thought processes. He decided it was nothing and shrugged it off as paranoia. He closed his eyes trying to drift back off.

A large rat sound broke the silence as it jumped out of a hiding place and pattered quickly down the alley, followed by several more then scurried into several holes. The hiver's eyes once again found their ways to the surrounding shadows as he sensed something wrong. Suddenly the area grew darker and the smell of dead flesh became almost overwhelming. The hiver pulled the cloth over his nose trying to fend off the smell, but no matter how much he tried - even when holding his breath - he could still smell it!

Then a figure stepped out of the darkness and stood before him gazing down upon the hiver, who stared open-mouthed in a silent scream up at it's gaping tentacle-rimmed mouth. The hiver's body was struck paralyzed. He tried to move finding none of his muscles would heed his mind's call. His sight blurred and the next thing he remembered was the feeling of tentacles wrapping about his head followed by the excruciating feeling of teeth grinding through his flesh, then the grinding upon bone. Then blackness as he drifted down into nihility...