Dustfinger

[[-Kay-]]

Name: Dustfinger
Age: 24
Race: Human
Occupation: Entertainer/Fire dancer
Allegiance: None but himself
Physical Description: Tall. That's one way to describe this fire dancer. He has a loose gait, one that rolls and makes him seem as if he's one of the flickering flames that he plays with so often. He's got almost shoulder length ginger/blond hair that's slightly curly. He has light gray/blue eyes that are always seeming to long for something just beyond his reach. He carries no weapons save his hands and a dagger that is rarely on his person. Across his face there are a few scars, testaments to some old argument or threat. There are four. Two running across his left eye, two across the cheek below them. He has no burn scars, a bit of a strange thing for those in his profession.
Personality: Dustfinger...to what kind of personality to do you fit someone with that kind of name? He is sly, and though sly, not trying to trick anyone. He's smart, not one to be easily fooled. But he's sad. He only keeps the company of one thing, a creature named Gwin. It, in appearance, is a ferret....a ferret with two little horns coming out of the top of his head. Though Dustfinger talks to Gwin quite often, he's not crazy. Dustfinger is less of a fighter and more of a philosopher, preferring to think rather than attack. Not to say he wouldn't try and defend himself, just saying that he isn't very aggressive. No, he's rather passive. Being sly, he is able to talk his way out of situations with ease, happily preferring to trick those in his way. He loves fire though, loves to whisper to it as he travels. One would think he's a magician, the way fire just comes from his hands, but he's not. Perhaps there was a magic in the honeycombs from the fairies in his homeland, but he was no magic user. He simply whispers to it, draws it back out and to dance on his palm. He knows how to appeal to fire's gentle sense of humor, and he does so well.
History: Dustfinger grew up in a small village outside the edges of Alagaesia. This place had fairies and dryads, all manner of interesting little creatures that didn't stray this far west. This village was near the main capital of the kingdom he lived in. He didn't stay in the village very long, only long enough to turn twelve and run off to join the Motley Folk. Their leader, a large dark skinned man, took the young boy in and treated him as a son. The Motley Folk were a varied group, with all sorts of colors and appearances amongst them. He quickly learned how to play with fire, how to tame it and how to whisper to it. But it wouldn't listen to him. He sat, for several days on end, beneath a fire fairy hive. They nipped at him and burned him for a while before deciding he wasn't a threat. Eventually, they began to sit and eat their honeycombs on his shoulders. Their honeycombs, while not protecting them from fire, granted him the ability to speak to fire. Not so much speak as whisper to it and ask it to do as he wanted it to. Fire was playful and liked Dustfinger most of the time. But as he got better at what he did, he attracted the attentions of a young woman named Roxanne. She fell for him, which spited another young man who had loved Roxanne. He found out and he carved the scars into his face, taunting him and telling him Roxanne would never love him now that his good looks were ruined. This, however, wasn't the case. Roxanne continued to love him and they left. While crossing the desert, though, Roxanne fell ill and couldn't continue. She died, there in the desert, leaving a bereaved Dustfinger to continue on by himself. Finally, he made his way to Alagaesia, into the cities which beckoned him and his strange garb; the garb of a fire dancer.

[Kite]

Accepted!