Name: Faust Dragomir Race: Hylian Gender: Male Age: 25 Place of Origin: Snow Peak Profession: Doctor Alignment: Neutral Good ---Rupees: 23 PWC: 2/5/1 Favourite Treasure Fields: Heal, Protect, Disable Traits: Magic Proficiency Business Sense Treasures: Profession lv.4 Vampiric Touch Bladed Healing Revive Rejuvenation +'Quick' augment Hex Violet Clover Kinstone Piece --- Appearance: There’s a hidden frailty to Faust, masked beneath the warmth of all his cosy layers and their furs: where scar-ridden flesh the colour of rich, bitter chocolate binds the lean musculature of his tall frame. He walks with a poorly hidden limp (from his right leg) and carries with him a deep, rumbling voice that may harden but very rarely rises. The bridge of his nose is shallow and smooth, leading down to a softly rounded tip that gives him a subtle profile. A full cupid’s bow of lips with deep creases in the corners, are often chapped and sit above a fluid v-line jaw. Emotion isn’t something that is well known by his face and it shows; his expressions often far too stiff to communicate much else other than disinterest, anything else comes in shades of subtlety as chaffing smirks or irritated scowls. The true speaking is done by the eyes. Monolid, angled, coal-black and severe in their relentless sharpness, they have a natural habit of cutting through any small-talk, and the thick, arched eyebrows above them are of little help. As poor eyesight is a hereditary curse however, Faust often wears a simple monocle in front of his damaged left eye. The silver rim matches his snow-flurry white hair, combed back off his forehead in feathered, touchably soft layers. He always attempts to be clean-shaven - as the odd nick here and there will prove - but there are more days than less when the nights draw on too late for it to become of any high importance. And no, that’s not a stingy roll of Woodfall’s best tobacco stuck between his lips but instead a lollipop. (Trying to give up the smoking was a tough ride but now he’s addicted to sweets. Seriously. Expect to be glared down into submission if you pull one out and don’t hand it over when he’s stood there empty-mouthed.) Personality: Faust is the sort of man you expect to be seen stood behind a chilled, high-end bar in Castle Town, topping up your latest glass tumbler of Ganon’s Bile whiskey while blatantly disregarding your drunken ramblings with selective hearing. There’s a relaxed suave attitude in his air that often comes off as arrogant, and a composure as icy and stoic as it is admirable regardless of the situation: as long as it doesn't involve women. He’s a man of few words but when he speaks they’re harsh, blunt, to the point and a little foul. There’s no beating around the bush with this guy and he lets you know that without warning. He’s no socialite but he is a keen, relentless observer. What he lacks in social graces and charming wit, Faust makes up for with his academic prowess and scathing remarks that you’ll either laugh at or loathe. He doesn’t care if people don’t like him and makes no efforts to either. He’ll speak his mind whenever he desires to, especially if some brats are running amok and could do with a good clip around the ear. Though he has also had more than his fair share of slaps around the face, I must add. Reluctantly responsible, prickly, grouchy and collected: that about sums Faust up. He cares far more about furthering his research and saving your arse than kissing it. So if you’re expecting polite sympathy for a broken nail you’ve come to wrong person, though he knows what it’s like to lose somebody and will silently offer his shoulder to anyone who needs a good sob. Just don’t talk to him about women. Don’t bring any over either. You’ll see why eventually. Background: A lot like to blame Faust’s often harsh, “soulless” temperament on the just as ruthless environment in which he spent his childhood: Snowpeak. It’s not really known how or why his family ever went there in the first place but there has always been a Dragomir about, stubbornly insisting on building large stone mansions on treacherous slops and in gales that’d freeze every brick the instant it was laid. Faust was once one of many other siblings, seven in fact, all of them somehow brothers. When Ganon arose to wreak havoc and horror upon Southern Hyrule, proclaimed, proud military roots of the Dragomir family demanded the young men to leave their isolation and come to the aid of the people in need. Faust was young at the time, the second youngest at barely fifteen. Young enough to be trapped in his home’s walls by a fretful mother and her latest newborn, yet old enough to know what it meant when his brothers and father didn’t come back. From that point onwards it was he took care of what remained of his small family - with the occasional help of some passing yeti folk. As his mother grew weaker and dimmer in spirits, Faust eventually made the risky decision of moving her and his baby brother down to a warmer climate in hopes of a swift recovery. She passed away in her sleep, on the aching back of her Faust just as he reached the foot of the Rolling Ridge. He didn’t notice. Not in time. And when he did there was little he could – or wanted – to do other than continue onwards to his goal: Castle Town. There, with the wealth of old tapestries and pelts he had dragged down from the Dragomir mansion, he gave his mother a respectable burial and was finally able to grieve. For a long time after that he was lost and blind, doing nothing but changing diapers on his baby brother and waiting for him to cry again so he had something else to do. It was a tough life for a teenage kid, raising a child by himself after losing his family, but then everyone was going through hard times back then – it was just a fact of war and its aftereffects. In due time Faust eventually turned towards the arts of healing, should another war ever rise again and more fall at its feet. With his naturally academic talents and studious mentality it turned out not to be impossible for him to earn a scholarship from a wealthy sponsor and be bought up in a well-educated environment. Himself and his baby brother were practically (and eventually literally) adopted by the bored, noble couple and kept as pets and badges of pride since their only blood-son was a terribly weak, sickly boy, too often fatigued and nursed to ever achieve much other than reading with Faust from the comfort of his own bed. The two became fast friends, and it was perhaps only due to the warm spirits of the noble’s son that Faust kept any of his heart open at all. These days though, Faust is a nearly independent man. He is on the verge of opening his own surgery and is currently pooling together enough rupees to properly release his not-so-baby-any more brother from the smothering grip of his bored ‘parents’. He had little choice or any alternatives at the time to deny them their roof and support of all types, but age has given him shame at his circumstances and a desire to revive the Dragomir name before it’s forever snuffed. Notable Relations: Annabelle Dragomir, Mother: deceased Carlisle Dragomir, Father: presumed deceased Victor Dragomir, oldest brother: presumed deceased Charles Dragomir, second oldest brother: presumed deceased Prothos Dragomir, third oldest brother: presumed deceased Aramis Dragomir, fourth oldest brother: presumed deceased Basil Dragomir, fifth oldest brother: presumed deceased Frederick Dragomir, younger brother Mr & Mrs Glitterpopper, adoptive parents Dorian Glitterpopper, adoptive brother Equipment: A first-aid kit This homemade kit consists mainly of rolls of bandages, a few small glass jars of brutally painful disinfectant, some thick waxed thread, and a set of terrifying sewing needles. Faust keeps the little satchel strapped at his hip on a hefty, buckled belt of thick leather. Far too much candy for a grown man A wide variety of differently flavoured lollipops are tucked within the inside pockets of his current waistcoat and fur-collared jacket like stashed drugs. His newest one is called Sour Peahat Blossom and is an oddly vibrant coral blue that has a habit of dying his tongue a hue that troubles the trust of his patients. A set of knuckle-dusters Iron and rusted: or at least, you hope that’s rust and not just old, dried on blood. These dangle from his belt. Steel-capped boots Because sometimes the message doesn’t get through with just a punch to the face and they need a second course consisting of boot in the face. Hooked Rope Usually for tying down agony-crazed customers and people who just need to stop hurting Hyrule with their frankly dangerous stupidity. A hipflask of whiskey Doctors always say it’s to calm their patient’s nerves. Faust doesn’t bother lying. A hipflask of water Necessary after too much whiskey. And a “What is that?” It used to be a comb made from Goddesses-knows-what, gifted to him by a Yeti up North. It’s not a comb anymore but habit insists that Faust continues to use it as one. One day he’ll replace it. One day. Just not today. --- Threads: Drunkards & Drinkers [COMPLETE] Snowpeak Temple An Uneventful Journey's Beginning? The Fetid Fountain Old Blood Swift Pursuit of an Unfounded Justice ---
"Drunkards & Drinkers" has been completed! Reward(s): Profession lv3 + lv4 Violet Clover Kinstone Piece 23 Rupees
