A Man Without  

There was a crooked man who had a crooked style,
He walked on crooked legs and he wore a crooked smile,In seeking crooked justice he was declared a crooked knave;
And told no one before or since, a man like him could save.He kept his crooked secret and he set himself apart;
Refusing to tell others of the breaking of his heart.So carry he, the crooked man, his memories most vile,
As he rises up to walk another final crooked mile.Here he finds a crooked friend and makes a crooked deal,
‘They will not become your toys,’ said he, ‘they’ll be your meal.’Take heed o' ye betrayers; bringers of misery, pain and strife.
For the crooked man now comes to claim your crooked little life.

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"Oh, to be a dream... Tis a blessed condition to live so freely in the minds of others without truly having to be."

  • Richter Enfield •  

➢ Race - Hyur
➢ Gender - Male
➢ Age - Unknown
➢ Birthplace - Unknown

Note: Any and all information found here can be considered 'public knowledge' and used to plan content with me! Feel free to reach out for questions (info located in the 'OOC' section)!

A History of Nobility

Sightings of a noted newcomer have recently become more frequent within the Ul’dah underworld. Making nightly visits to the city, he is regarded with rare favor among the needy of her population. So much so, that anyone wishing to find the stranger is advised to begin there..."We don't let outsiders speak ill of that man in these parts," explains a roaming panhandler currently working Thal's Gate. When pressed he explains; “Seen him stand up to anything from Blasphemies to crooks, even after the best of our gilded city were sent runnin’ from the gutters we call home," he clarifies, spitting into the sand. “So, we don’t speak ill in these parts.”That seemed all he wanted to say on the matter.(Knowledge of the dangers of the Thanalan underworld is relevant here...)

The Professional

“Something plagues you?" the soothsayer says, only to those who know to ask. “Then it is the Bloodhound you seek..." She produces a card and offers it face-down. The shadow of a smile dances on her expression as she does, saying, "Just be prepared to face what will come to save you when there's nobody else left to call."On the other side is a postbox address and instructions to leave a written request. Upon further inquiry, the soothsayer would feign ignorance. The sigil on the card also looks familiar, though you can't seem to remember from where...(Those seeking assistance in matters of dark circumstance might soon find themselves overhearing the name Enfield whispered among those who know of such things...)

HOOKS

Hello MonsterBrass Blades don't usually huddle together in the poorer regions of Ul'dah. At least, not until recently. A pair now takes sanctuary in an alleyway, speaking in hushed tones regarding recent events.There are rumors of burning slave auctions and gambling dens recently relieved of their coffers. Noble and merchant families with funds directly tied to predatory lending find ledgers destroyed and loan sharks haunted by some unknown newcomer; left terrified and unwilling to continue business. Protection racketeers find themselves confronted off-duty, violently dissuaded from continuing their work.“It’s getting real dangerous to show your face on the streets these days,” one of the guards says.If you’re crooked, he doesn’t add aloud, as they share an uncomfortable glance.They both walk away looking over their shoulder.Good Morning Soldier“It was one of the Eorzean freaks,” the Garlean trouper says. Static crackling in his voice. He sounds shaken, perhaps disturbed. “They were torn apart, sometimes in pieces malms away from each other..."He takes a breath but continues. "I don't remember a name. Just the things it was called... The title came from the survivors. They named him-" The recording skips, the man’s voice pitching wildly before snapping back to normal at once, blaring both loud and clear at once."Pyremaker..."(Knowledge of the Garlean conflict in Ilsabard is relevant here...)Good Night Widower  •REDACTED•  WIPGoodbye Priest  •REDACTED•  WIP

At a GlanceThe peculiar man is often spied carrying a cane and wearing a mask, though by all accounts he’s neither lame nor blind. His left hand also possess a terrible stutter upon examination - the motions not unlike clockwork.He favors black, though typically wears it highlighted with red and gold. The colors of blood and money.What little of his skin shows evidence of scarring; that of flame and steel both. And yet pain and discomfort are undetectable on the man, an ever-present smile instead affixed to an unchanging face, betraying nothing beyond the most outwardly amiable expression.

Known AliasesPyremaker – Watchdog – The Sagolii Specter – The
Rottempered – The Ilsabard Incinerator – Dunestrider – Bloodhound – Kerberos