Khel

[*Jewelcast]

Basic Information
Name: Khel (as far as he or anyone else knows)
Gender: Male
Race: Drow
Age: Unknown, but doesn't look very far past adolescence
Profession: Seargeant in the Warhounds mercenary company
Accent: Tends to mumble so much it's hard to determine, but when he does speak up, his generically lower-class accent is unplaceable, though some of the consonants speak of his Underdark background.

Physical Information
Height: ~4'
Weight:~55lb
Body build: Painfully skinny, with just a thin layer of muscle over slight, fragile-looking bones.
Skin type: Smooth for the most part, but marked with many minor scars and often with grazes or slight cuts.
Hair style: Usually hidden under a hood, but cropped short by an untrained hand, washed regularly, and otherwise left to its own devices.
Scars: Most noticeably, his left ear is missing, only a grisly scar hidden under his hair remaining. Though well healed, his back is a mess of old whip scars, and other less identifiable marks scattered across his body testify to its mistreatment over the years.
Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] White [b]Eyes:[/b] Pale yellow [b]Skin:[/b] Dark grey [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: Normally seen wearing the black and green uniform and insignia of the Warhounds. He's almost never without at least half a dozen daggers strapped about his person, along with a motley assortment of other weapons. His bulkier equipment lives in a pair of satchels strapped close to his sides.
Jewelry: Nothing remarkable
Habits/hobbies: When not busy, can often be seen playing kiddie's games with the motley contents of his pockets/bags.
General Health: Obviously malnourished, but no longer to the point of imminent starvation.
Favorite Drink: Rarely seen drinking anything but water.

[*Jewelcast]

I don't remember the person I used to be. I don't want to. I remember enough to know that he was not someone worth being. He was useless, broken and unwanted. And he's dead. He walked into the darkness to commit suicide. But here I am. When I stumbled out of the grey place, I was a senseless, broken thing. A puppet with cut strings. My body moved and breathed, needed food and water, but I was dead inside. Now... Now I am waking up. Every day I feel more like a person, more like a thinking, feeling being, and less like a corpse that simply hasn't lain down to rot yet. It's as if I'd forgotten how to live, and now I'm learning all over again.

But when I shut my eyes, I can still hear someone screaming in the dark. I thought before that my mind was like a pool, and memories were like fish jumping. Bright and appealing, but too quick to catch, and reaching in risked stirring deeper, darker things in the depths. If it was like that before, now I'm swimming, well beneath the surface. I don't remember jumping in, but things are out of my control now. Memories spin past, brushing against me, then disappear again. People, places, pictures, sounds, sights, smells... There are no names. Never any names. I'm afraid that the names are in there somewhere, afraid of remembering them, because when the names come back, I'm afraid that I'll remember everything. And when I remember it all, there'll be no gap, no fault line, nothing to separate me from that broken other who tried to die, that half-forgotten stranger, who screams in the dark places inside my mind.

[*Jewelcast]

Did I ever have a place to call home like this before? I don't think I remember this feeling. I remember cages and chains, all too clearly, but I'm getting better at forcing the unwanted memories down. What else? Maybe there was a space like this once... I remember thorny branches, twigs and leaves and the bright, bright light despite the cover overhead. Dampness, the smell of earth and plants and old blood. Pain, salt in my mouth, the dull ache of hunger...

Ugh. It's always like this. So close, so intense, and then gone without trace. Some of them, like that one, don't even make sense. Are these really memories at all? Maybe they're just delusions. Maybe I really have gone insane, and I just don't know it anymore. All I know is that what I have now is better than anything I remember. That's a comforting thought.