A Jester's Grin

[*Helio]

Basic Information
Name: Evaliir the Jester
Aliases: Jester, Jackal, Shadow
Gender: Male
Race: Half- Sun Elf
Age: Unknown
Profession: Scout, Mercenary, Assassin
Languages: Common, Cant, Elven, Infernal
Accent: Calishite

Physical Information
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 158
Body build: Athletic
Skin type: Scarred
Hair style: Ponytail
Scars: Lots of them, one scar standing out more than others runs from the edges of his mouth to his ears in a permanant Jester's Grin.
Branding: He has a branding in the shape of a Skull with a Scepter in it's mouth on the upper left portion of his back.
Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] Jet Black [b]Eyes:[/b] Golden [b]Skin:[/b] Dark Tan [/li]

Mental Information
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Philosophy: "The Possibilities are Endless"
Deity/Beliefs: Follower of Mask
Personality:

(examples) [u]Cynical[/u] [i]he believes that the there is always something bad bound to happen.[/i] [u]Secretive[/u] [i]He avoids giving any information to anyone.[/i] [u]Confident[/u] [i]He is very confident in his abilities, bodering on arrogance.[/i] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: He dresses in tight fitting leathers and goes out of his way to obscure his face, either with a hood or a black velvet mask.
Jewelry: A multitude of earrings line both of his pointed ears in a variety of shapes and sizes.
Habbits/hobbies: Smoking, Drinking, Reading, Training
General Health: Excellent shape
Favorite Drink: Dwarven Firewhiskey
Weaknesses: He is an alchoholic and a tobacco enthusiast.

[*Helio]

Evaliir sat silently in a corner of the Hive Ward, his golden eyes peering out from the shadows of his hood as an alley cat strutted by with it's nose in the air. He cast his gaze out into the busy street, watching as so many people, creatures and beings of various planes fill the same street, a sense of curiosity began to fill his mind.

Here I am once again. Once again I find myself in a place that I would not wish to be and this time, I wasnt even given the chance to back out of it. It has been a couple years since I left the rolling sands of Calimshan behind me, since I left to dirty and clogged streets of Calimport at my heels and took passage with a small band of halflings, being paid to aid their efforts as a caravan... I found myself in many tight situations, from the very beginning in Calimport, to Amn, Zhentil Keep, Thay and many other places... Now... I am here, dragged from my seat as I peered up at the stars while the halflings slept soundly in their cots around the campfire after yet another night of storytelling, jibes and drunken mirth.

Sigil, known as a Crossroads of sorts between the various planes, rued by an uncaring entity with enough power to rival major deities named The Lady of Pain, like Loviatar...Curse the Bitch to a thousand different deaths... I have heard nothing of the place before... Nothing whatsoever. Here, Devils share the same table with Demons and Archons on a regular basis... Here in this place, I see Tieflings and drow walking proudly through the streets and all the snobby Aasimar can do s sit down and watch, not interfering for fear of death at the hands of the local law enforcement.

This place is new and certainly different, but at the same time... I can see that it isnt much different than the many other cities I've been in, and certainly not worst than a few situations that I can think of... In this place, there are certain elements that even I can feel at home in among the chaotic mess that formed this city.

We shall see how it all plays out.

Evaliir slowly stood up and moved out of his shadowed corner, into the busy streets of the City of Doors.