[hider=Horace Upland]
[u][b][color=fdc68a]Name[/color][/b][/u]
Horace Upland

[u][color=fdc68a][b]Appearance[/b][/color][/u]
A tall blond, not altogether exciting. When Horace arrived at the slave camp he was clean shaven, neatly groomed, pale skinned, and somewhat wispy for a man over six feet. By now he’s a little less delicate than before, a lot more untidy, and sporting a very masculine chin of reddish stubble—which does not at all match his straw colored hair. His blue eyes reflect bitter surrender, too tired to be confused anymore about the absurdity of his situation.

The only thing that’s remained the same about him since his arrival is the arid look of contempt he offers the camp guards.

[u][color=fdc68a][b]Age[/b][/color][/u]
25

[u][color=fdc68a][b]Gender[/b][/color][/u]
Male

[u][color=fdc68a][b]Race[/b][/color][/u]
Human

[u][color=fdc68a][b]Class[/b][/color][/u]
Priest

[u][color=fdc68a][b]Magic Description[/b][/color][/u]
Divine

[u][color=fdc68a][b]Personality[/b][/color][/u]
One part piety and two parts dry wit. Horace is easy company for anyone with a lot to say. He enjoys listening more than speaking, and he’s a good source of advice or a sly joke when it is sought. Many would describe him as easygoing, more liable to bend with the breeze rather than stand in the storm, but they would be wrong. Like an extinguished hearth, his cool ashen mein hides a bed of glowing embers.

Despite his approachable demeanor, Horace does tend to be a bit personally withdrawn. He possesses a self destructive streak when he becomes hopeless (like now, for instance), as well as a very unpriestly appetite for vices of all sorts.

[u][color=fdc68a][b]Who you were[/b][/color][/u]
A novitiate from the Temple of Truth. Before Horace was caught up in this mess, he was a young priest in service to Lord Ceron, God of Knowledge. The Temple boasted a well tended library, often visited by scholars and students, as well as an altar and large marble image of the bearded god himself. Not a great fan of archiving, however, Horace usually served Ceron by visiting nearby villages to treat common ailments with his magical talents, as well as educate young children and curious adults.

Orphaned in his early teen years, Horace was not skilled or unscrupulous enough to resort to thievery and pickpocketing to get by. Instead he begged for coin on street corners where he was paid to [i]please[/i] stop singing because busking was [i]clearly[/i] not his calling. Over years he became more useless, relying on friends to pay for him to get drunk at pubs and taverns until he was rowdy enough to be thrown out.

One memorable occasion with a duke’s daughter nearly landed him in a situation not unlike the one he’s in now (and when he remembers that, he’ll be appropriately spiteful). A gray-maned priest of Ceron intervened and claimed that Horace was merely teaching the girl [i]history[/i], not unlacing her frock. The duke was skeptical, but the priest was earnest and trustworthy. It was enough to drag Horace to safety by his arm.

Horace’s future looked grim, and confronted with the powerlessness of his existence, he followed the priest to the Temple of Truth in an attempt to fill the void in his heart.
[/hider]