Wha's the worst tha could happen, I die? *snort*
Description: Even hunched over Egan is an unusually tall elf, his sturdy build one crafted from years of hard life on a boat. He moves with an easy, confident stride, his hands typically never far from the dual blades sheathed in the belt full of pouches that hangs off his hip. Long chestnut brown hair flows about a chiseled face and wide shoulders with some random clumps of strands tied together by a leather strip here, a bauble laced into another clump there. His wide jaw, typically set determinedly, lies below drawn cheeks which are accentuated by the jutting cheekbones above. Piercing sapphire eyes shrewdly appraise the world from behind renegade strands of hair, his gaze typically darting from one place to another as if ferreting out the demons that lie in the shadows. Still his lips belie a different story, the edges tending to curl upward in to a wicked, self-amused grin.
Personality: Egan is a touch off and it shows. He's the kind of elf to volunteer for Crow's Nest duty when the storm is at it's strongest. Somewhere along the line the Aeran elf and his mind were separated and they haven't been reunited since. That's not to say the elf isn't intelligent or aware, he's just not always in the same reality as everyone else. Still, he's an amiable individual who typically has a good story to tell for any ear that is willing to listen. They may not be accurate or even believable, and that's part of the mystery of the seafaring elf. With the zeal and lust that he throws himself at any opportunity for adventure, most of them may just well be the gods' own truth. He's usually seen with his constant companion, Charles the cat, oft times engaged in a seemingly one-sided conversation.
Background: Not much can be said of Egan's history after the crossing. The stories of events that he tells have the likelihood of being just as false as they are true. It was within the attack of the Host that the elf known as Egan Reymar ceased to be who he was and turned into the incarnation that is known today. By all accounts, before they arrived Egan was an outstanding adventurer. Smart, able-bodied, an effective and efficient leader, and a precise and skilled swordsman. He loved travelling, by sea or by land, excitement carrying him on to the next challenge. He wasn't fool hardy, Egan planned and calculated every move, each action along the way thought out and rechecked to be assured of any possible occurrence, he liked to be ready.
This was all fostered by two loving and nurturing parents. Every night before bed, Egan was regaled with story after story of the world beyond, his eyes wide as he imagined the tales of his own he would write. His father, a naval captain himself, would bring back trinkets and baubles from afar, dazzling the young elf with the difference in culture around the land. When Egan was ready, he took him under his wing and taught the eager elf the ropes at sea. The young Reymar proved to be quite adept and in short time ascended through the responsibilities to First Mate.
In the years that followed, Egan courted a young elf named Lyandrith and they settled down together after a too long courtship, at least in his mother's eyes. They were blessed with a son of their own, Ferox, who grew to have a love for the sea and adventure as well. Egan delightfully carried on the tradition of tucking the little one in for the night with stories of afar and the young elf was more than spoiled by his Grandfather with knick-knacks a plenty. Contented happiness was the best way to describe the life that was...
Egan had been with his family the night Itoju was razed to the ground but the Host. He was found, wide-eyed and bloody, clothing torn to shreds, his body blackened from the smoke of the fire that now consumed the town. In his hand he clutched a pendant so tightly his knuckles were white... as he walked away from the burning wreckage of his life... alone.