Dymion — Roleplayer Guild

The Spawn of Madness

Name: Sendam 
Titles: None 
Positions: None
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Appearance

	How do you describe the look of a madman, the qualities of those called insane? An image might appear before you, but is it one that others ordain? You’ll say “Madness is all in the eyes, a wildness sifting, toiling, and boiling in the brain.” But will others nod at your wisdom, or grimace in exaggerated pain? A thought might alter your perception, to words like “In their actions, it’s plain." But as your concepts fight for more grounding, you’ll know more attempts are inane. 

	Few living men can describe the appearance of Sendam, fewer still care to try. And, among embellishments in horrifying ways, it becomes harder and harder to determine the truth from terror’s illusions. Only by drawing connections between the most grounded of these, can an image be formed. Even then, it is hard to believe them as fact. What’s most commonly described are the teeth, yellowed and sharpened to shred. Then the eyes, always said to be a sick green, and the scars, which seemingly crisscross the face and disfigure what once was a man. Haughty, pale skin also earns common description, with a sickening tone that emulates a corpse, and, after each descriptor settled down further, they were able to describe stringy, greasy, coal colored hair, multiple strands gripping his facial features while most hung down to the shoulders. It is there that common views disappear, with what we know based off the more… stable victims. The jawline seemingly tapers to a pointed chin, with narrow features often described, and a few were even able to note the sharp, defined point of his nose. Anyone who was able to remember anything other than the face remained fairly consistent. He, at the least, filled his clothes.

The final detail is, strangely, the most useful, the lunatic having left pieces of his clothing on victims in the river. Thin and wiry is the best way to put it, his gray tunic and black trousers too small for those who fit his height of six feet. We haven’t gotten the trench coat yet; it may be a precious possession to him. Only a madman would know why. There’s nothing special about it. It’s old, it’s ragged, and it’s brown. Then again… it could explain… never mind.
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