- (* = Not Yet Overhauled)
Played By Bear
~59th Summer, Year '2'.
Male, 7'5“, 140kg, draconic humanoid with digitigrade legs, claws and a tail, dressed like a sea-faring pirate in plate armour, and armed to the teeth with blade and blackpowder. His scales are a dull bronze, with a myriad of now-oversized spines and horns in varying shades from head to toe, pointing in some way or another rearward. His jaw sits like a corner slab of scaled rock, and his broad fangs can never truly be hidden by thin lips. Vertical pupils and sulphur sclera sit one on each side of his long, symmetrical muzzled head, textured like bone and scale bred copper in stone. And that smile, that splits the length of his muzzle like a fissure, with a web of skin toward the joint. Spiny flaps cover small ear holes, and long, chitinous tendrils hang back in a mid-back length ponytail.
Clawed, almost scale-gauntleted hands match to feet that belong on his species namesake, though the backward bend at the knees, and the great, plated, limb-thick tail are a dead giveaway, if nothing else. Somehow, Bolt is as big, if not bigger, than the talk of him, even than the average Saurian - since the incident with the Justicar, at least. Since then, all of his spikes are larger, denser, and sharper, and the two that now protrude over his shoulders, up from his shoulder blades, almost seem as if amputated wings.
Heavy fabrics sit a little tight on his frame; A dashing, brown seafarer's coat, a once-white chamois beneath, and a pair of khaki pantaloons to match. The loud set of fine, interlocking ceramic plate armour he is never without, now forms a part of his known image. Belts: he's wearing at least three. Footwraps exposing true talons for feet round out his visible kit. A tightly packed backpack features a bedroll, a silk rope and a crowbar on the outside, with more inside. Between the pack and his back sits a gleaming, brush-stroke-headed silver greataxe, and on the pack's outermost face, a peltast, embossed with a concentric set of rings much alike ripples in water, reflecting the moon.
Under the coat, a scabbard on his left side is topped with the faded but broad brass hand-guard of a thick, salt-encrusted falchion. An intricate, twistable scroll case swaggers heavily on the opposing hip. A holster holding a revolver fits snugly above the falchion, and a shapely, finely crafted scimitar with a dark, intricate hilt above that. On the other side, in the belt, sits a rapier with an exquisite hilt of a woman with arm outstretched into the blade, and a dark look on her face. A few pouches round out the back of his belts, yet none of them jingle above the sound of clanking ceramic plate.