Tov Kesh
Wizard
Tov Kesh
Species
Ravenfolk, custom ancestry
Appearance
Tov Kesh is a dark-feathered ravenfolk man with the broad, healthy body of someone who has spent decades eating well in a town where most people cannot. His plumage is dense and glossy, black at a distance but threaded with blue-green oil colors when struck by sunlight. His belly strains gently against his vest, while his shoulders remain surprisingly square and strong. He moves with a slow, rolling waddle that suddenly becomes precise and swift whenever he reaches for a book, key, or weapon. His feathers are carefully groomed, but the tips around his elbows are permanently dusted gray from archive work. The unexpected contradiction is his delicate, almost dainty hands, which handle fragile relics with the care of a jeweler despite the rest of him suggesting a prosperous undertaker.
“His voice is low, dry, and pleasantly hoarse, with the measured rhythm of someone reading a plaque aloud. He clips the ends from words when irritated and makes soft clicking sounds with his beak while calculating.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
A small brass museum key is permanently threaded through a ring on his right claw and glows faintly when someone nearby speaks a deliberate historical falsehood.
The outer feathers of his left wing are neatly trimmed into a subtle stepped pattern, an old ravenfolk mourning custom he refuses to explain.
He smells faintly of cedar oil, old paper, gunpowder residue, and cinnamon tea.
His lower beak has a tiny notch shaped like a crescent, caused by years of biting sealing wax rather than injury in combat.
He wears a tiny silver bell beneath his waistcoat that never rings when he walks but sounds whenever he enters a room containing a stolen relic.
Voice
“A resonant baritone with a soft rasp, like a phonograph recording played through a dusty brass horn”
Clothing
A dust-brown curator's coat with deep interior pockets, a wine-red waistcoat, a cream shirt fastened with a black fossilized beetle, brass spectacles on a chain, polished riding boots, and a broad black hat fitted with a narrow slot for his folded crown feathers. His coat lining is printed with a map of Elpine that is several decades out of date.
Body Language
Tov keeps his wings folded tightly around his sides in public, as if wearing an oversized feathered coat. He leans toward objects rather than people, tilting his head in short birdlike increments while listening. When excited, he taps his cane three times and fans the feathers at the back of his neck. In combat, his portly frame lowers unexpectedly, and his wings snap open just long enough to redirect his balance.
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