Here we are.

[hider=Jolly Gutters][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/1IrXfOn.jpg?1[/img][/center]
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[B]Name:[/b] He does indeed have a real name. But his mind is so broken that he’d probably deny it even if he remembered what it was. Nowadays, he has taken to calling himself by the same name of the shipwreck he resides within – “Jolly Gutters”.
[B]Age:[/b] Forty-something. He’s not quite sure anymore, but his guesses are always in the low forties.
[B]Gender:[/b] Definitely a man. Crazy as Gutters is, he remembers that much.

[B]Physical Description:[/b]

[INDENT]A tall, disheveled, filthy individual. Gutters looks to be a man who’s forgotten what bathing and shaving even mean, with wild black hair, a rampant beard, and a natural odor that invades the nose like a plague upon a village. His left eye is, quite clearly, no longer functional. He wears an assortment of tattered rags and a wide-brimmed hat, none of which have been washed in months.

But there’s something else about the man. Something unnatural. Blackened veins, easily visible through his pale skin, run down from his facial orifices, and end God-knows-where. As to their nature, it’s easy to say they’re by no mundane means. But it’s still a mystery, and one Gutters is not too mindful of anymore.[/INDENT]
[B]Skills:[/b]

[INDENT]Gutters was never a soldier. He was never a swordfighter or a pilot or a mechanic or anything even remotely useful in the Fog. But whatever sickness of the mind grips at him now, has turned him into such a rabid psychopath that his sheer desire to live and claim “the ancient treasure”, drives him to surpass just about any hardship he faces. Whether it’s by the man’s own skill, or luck, or the work of the force that possesses him, is anyone’s guess.[/INDENT]
[B]History:[/b]

[INDENT]As far as anyone would know of who Gutters was before he became what he is now, it’d be got from his demented ramblings, and then immediately all lost the moment he brought out the knife. So there’s no good there.

Rather, let’s look at Gutters’ surroundings. He’s a madman stuck on a wrecked airship in the thick of the Fog. The thing is absolutely ruined and the bodies of its former crewmen are littered everywhere, looking as they they’d been individually slaughtered. They are dressed in peasant rags and armor cobbled from scrap. The supplies have all been tapped into by Gutters himself for the good of his survival. There are weapons strewn about, most by the hands of the dead crewmen, indicating they’d all made one final stand against their last enemy. And they all failed – save for one.

Gutters talks to everyone, anyone, and no one, all at the same time. He talks about his knowing where an ancient treasure rests in the Smoke, something the value of which would rival Kushrina’s, Archadia’s, and many other nations’ wealth and power. He talks about how it would let a man drink of the infinite nothingness and spread it all out over the world, superseding the Fog and ushering in a new age of stark beauty and wonder.

And he talks about how it will be his. [i]All[/i] his.[/INDENT]
[B]Personality:[/b]

[indent]Gutters is mad. He is loud, he is violent, and he often speaks in gibberish. But listen closely enough and maybe [i]something[/i] can be made out from his inane babble. If he hasn’t run a dagger through you by then, that is.[/indent]
[B]Equipment:[/b]

[indent]Nothing but the clothes he wears and whatever’s still left on the shipwreck he currently treats as home.[/indent][/hider]