Dalvro Blustains
Rogue
Dalvro Blustains
Species
Gnome
Appearance
Blustains is a compact gnome with a narrow, restless face and the poised balance of a cat on a wet rail. His skin has a muted copper tone, freckled with pale salt marks that never quite wash away. Crooked silver hair is braided into three tight cords, each threaded with tiny fish vertebrae. His eyes are green-brown and glossy, always measuring exits, witnesses, and the nearest object that could become a weapon. He smiles often, but the smile arrives a heartbeat late, as though someone else has approved it. His hands are delicate and ink-stained, yet his knuckles are scarred from years of boarding actions. He moves with quick, economical precision, unexpectedly gentle when handling flowers, children, or injured seabirds.
“His words arrive lightly, polished smooth as beach glass, with a faint coastal lilt. He speaks faster when improvising and slower when telling the truth.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Three silver braids threaded with fish vertebrae and red glass beads
A left canine tooth capped in tarnished gold
A pale scar crossing the bridge of his nose, shaped like a hook
A red cord wrapped around his right wrist, tied with a sailor's knot that has never been opened
A habit of smiling at empty corners as if someone invisible has just whispered approval
Voice
“A quick, dry tenor softened by theatrical courtesy, with a rasp like a match striking behind the words”
Clothing
A storm-blue coat cut from patched sailcloth, lined with crimson silk and weighted at the hem so it hangs neatly in heavy wind. He wears a cream waistcoat covered in hidden pockets, soft black trousers, eel-skin boots, and a red scarf knotted in the style of the Red Grackle. His cuffs carry faint rust-colored stains that may be old blood or merely dye.
Body Language
Blustains rarely stands still. His thumbs rub against the first joints of his fingers as if counting invisible coins, and his head tilts toward every whispered conversation. When lying, he becomes perfectly motionless except for the slow rotation of one ring. When genuinely angry, he grows loose and almost cheerful, leaning close enough for others to smell clove oil and brine on his breath.
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