Mikó Drazsen

Create your own NPC
MD
5
LVL

Cleric, Grave Domain

Mikó Drazsen

Level 5·Male·Medium
Neutral Good

Species

Human

Appearance

Mikó is a broad-shouldered human man with the weathered look of someone who has slept outdoors more often than indoors. His hands are large, square, and permanently darkened beneath the fingernails by grave soil that no washing can remove. He walks with a slight forward tilt, as if listening for voices beneath the earth, yet when startled he moves with startling, dancer-like speed. His face is plain at first glance, but one side of his mouth lifts higher than the other, giving him a permanent expression of skeptical amusement. He smells faintly of beeswax, wet stone, and bitter plum tea. The contradictory impression he leaves is that of a gentle undertaker who looks most alive when discussing death.

Height5 feet 10 inches
BuildHeavyset and powerfully built, with a laborer's arms, a thick waist, and the compact balance of someone accustomed to slippery ground.
EyesDark hazel with gold flecks, though his pupils narrow like a cat's when he hears a death omen.
HairBlack, thick, and iron-streaked at the temples, usually tied with red thread at the nape.
SkinWarm brown with a weathered copper undertone and pale scars across both knuckles.

His voice is low, rough, and careful, with unexpected stress on ordinary words. He speaks as if each sentence is being placed into a grave and covered properly.”

Ability Scores

STR
14+2
DEX
12+1
CON
15+2
INT
10+0
WIS
16+3
CHA
13+1

Alignment

Good
Lawful
Chaotic
EvilNeutral Good

Distinguishing Features

A thin white scar runs from the corner of his mouth to his right ear.

His left thumbnail is painted with a tiny red door.

A small brass key is permanently embedded beneath the skin of his right forearm.

His shadow sometimes appears to wear a broad-brimmed hat that he is not wearing.

He has a habit of smiling at graves but never at mirrors.

Voice

A gravelly baritone with a faint river-country lilt. He lowers his voice when speaking to the living and raises it when addressing the dead.

Clothing

A charcoal wool coat patched at both elbows, a faded burgundy sash, mud-stiffened trousers, and a sleeveless leather apron crowded with small tools. Around his neck hangs a tarnished brass funerary bell wrapped in red thread. His boots are mismatched, one belonging to his dead mentor and one bought from a ferryman.

Body Language

He leans toward quiet voices, keeps his hands folded over his iron key, and turns his left shoulder toward anyone he distrusts. During prayer, he presses his thumb into the old scar across his palm until it bleeds.

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