Quincy Demir

Gender: Male



Age: 33



Race: Human



Nationality: Dragon's Cradle



Appearance: Standing at 5’7(170.18 cm) Quincy isn’t the most imposing height wise. What he lacks in height he makes up for in muscle mass with the musculature of a trained fighter. His skin is a smooth ebony color. He can typically be found wearing flowing clothing though fashion wise it isn’t exactly what his peers in Dragon’s Cradle wear, but after seeing artwork of the people of the Zeinav Desert he fell in love with the style.



Folks aren’t unsure if his beard is out of mourning or just plain disdain for a clean shaven face as he’s had one for as long as he’s been able to grow one. Currently it reaches down and gently grazes his pectorals. He typically wears a stern solemn look on his face, though the look is not a reflection of his personality. His hair is in long dreads going down to the center of his back or laying just below his pecs. His eyes are an unremarkable dark brown.



Personality: Skeptical by nature is the easiest way to put it. He questions most things and people before they’ve got a chance to explain themselves. Which feeds into his curiosity. In his mind, to question things is to get more answers, more knowledge, about a subject. Knowledge and answers are both impactful things. The only thing he doesn’t question at this point is the uncaring god.



Sentimentality being the reason he doesn’t want to question it. It’s that same sentimentality that keeps him from losing each small nick nack he’s given in this life. He cares more for a cheap gift he was given than an expensive item he paid for himself. The idea of a good time was never something he would turn down. Nothing said a good night like a few ales with good company though those days feel few a far between.



Throughout all of this there is an air about him that just feels aimless. As if he’s lost in the great sea of life looking for something to hold onto, something to be a part of.



History: He carefully set down another empty tankard adding to the ever growing collection beside him. In the ongoing battle of him versus the drink he was losing but he’d never go down without a fight. “Ahh. Another!” his voice barely breaking through the roaring patrons within the establishment. The barkeep nodded with a grimace and hesitantly began his order.



“Ya ever just wonder where it all went wrong? It can’t have been when…when you were young ya know? When I was a boy growing up Thorock everything was simple. I remember when we were in the middle. The base seemed so far away and the peak right within arms reach. We were livin well. Pa traded the seas for brick and mortar. We coulda been sippin wine with those damned snobs at the top had pa not… had pa..” A drink finds its way in front of him, the thick head cascading slowly over the side of the tankard.



“What was I sayin…pa…yea pa. Had he not had that accident we’d have been sittin pretty at the top.” His eyes rested on the head of the ale as a melancholic grin started to form. “Wasn’t livin well then were we? We took our time. Pa healed up, got back to building. In that time though we fell so…so far. When we found ourselves at the base things just weren’t the same.We weren’t the same.” One moment he was looking down at his drink he blinked and the next his head was tilted back and the cold brew was rushing down his throat.



“Man, somethin about that first sip. Uh, right. I got a little muscle and I told you I’d go to the Martial Academy in Capitol Landing. Heh I was never making that trip alone. You sent me to Sky Peak to learn a thing or two from Pa’s pal…what’d you call him..Fluffy! Such a ridiculous name for such an intimidating Centaur. I was there for a few years. The old coot tried to teach me how to use a damn staff but the spear just… clicked. I like to think I was livin well there.” Time felt like it skipped for a moment as what was half of an ale was just another empty tankard to add to the collection.



“Ah. An…Yea you’re right. I’ve had en…eno…I’m done. Suppose that’d been..be. That’d be when you got sick. I shoulda come home sooner instead I just..” a moment is all it took for him to gather himself. There were better places for his tears to fall. “You always told me to live well that the uncaring god wouldn’t do anything for us but that was a blessing. They didn’t help us so we could help ourselves, you said. Said it when pa got hurt, said it when you got sick too. I shoulda been there. Then you pop up here of all places I thought it couldn’t have been you cause you passed away, Ma.” His eyes grew heavy and a yawn left his lips before he laid his head down. “Just wait here… I’m gonna take a nap… and we can talk so…” The thing about mops is they don’t typically move on their own.