Quithros Zarjen

Quithros stands tall and slender, his skin the pale, almost translucent grey of forgotten ashes. Sharp cheekbones frame his sunken, ink-black eyes, shadowed deep beneath heavy brows. His long, white hair falls in untamed strands that catch the light like spun moonbeam, streaked with faint scars curling from temple to nape. A faded tattoo of twisting thorns snakes across his left forearm, partially hidden beneath well-worn dark leather sleeves. His clothing blends threadbare black silks and tight-fitting leathers, soft enough for quick movement yet worn at the edges, with a simple lute slung low and a set of wind chimes hanging from his belt.

Born within the shadowed courts of the Raven Queen’s realm, Quithros wore the expectations of a dutiful Shadar-kai with quiet refusal. Instead of abiding the cruel formalities, he turned to stories and song, learning to use his voice as both comfort and weapon. When a fractured rebellion within the courts pitched him into exile, he wandered the material world with only his lute and a handful of half-forgotten songs. Each town gave him scraps of freedom and fleeting trust, shaping a bard whose magic and mirth defy the gloomy fate he escaped while chasing a chaotic hope to redefine what it means to live among shadows.

Quithros talks in quick bursts, punctuating thoughts with soft whistles or taps on his lute’s strings. He harbours a restless urge to unsettle stagnant places and stale customs, often provoking friends and strangers alike to test their convictions. He values laughter above formality but hides a keen wariness beneath his mischievous smile, fearing betrayal more than death. In crowds, he lingers on edges, the habit of watching before joining, ready to vanish into shadows if discomfort rises. His loyalty is fierce yet flickers with unpredictable sparks when he feels the bonds tighten too much.