Here we go, first draft of my character sheet. I'll PM you my ideas for some Old Soot spells.

[hider= Rogafi Sheet Draft]
[center][h2][u] ROGAFI LEVILSE [/u][/h2][/center]
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[b][i][center] "It is not the strongest who survive, nor the most intelligent. It is the ones who can run really, really, [u]really[/u] fast."  [/center][/i][/b]
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[center][h3][b] 31 | Human | Mage-Eyes[/b] [/h3][/center]

[h3][u]P E R S O N A L I T Y            [/u][/h3]
[indent]❖ [ Wanderlust ]
❖ [ Fatal Curiosity ]
❖ [ Fight? No, Flight ]
❖ [ Haunted ]
❖ [ Fear Of Loss ][/indent]


[h3][u]A P P E A R A N C E            [/u][/h3]
Garofi is a narrow man with a sharp nose, prominent chin, and gaunt cheeks. He wears traveling clothes with signs of wear and tear, and worn-out boots that have been broken in so thoroughly they're almost a second layer of skin.

His mage-eyes are as black as charcoal, with pupils that glow like embers.

[h3][u]H I S T O R Y            [/u][/h3]
In the Age of the Widow, there's no profession that is more dangerous, or rightly maligned, than the courier. With the efertide making travel barely even a fantasy for the common folk, it takes a special sort of fool to risk running the long roads, darting from bonfire to bonfire. Rogafi Levilse is exactly that sort of fool.

Rogafi was born as part of a traveling caravan in Milos, a small band even in terms of the nomadic packs that traveled the long roads of that land. It was by necessity; the Levilse Bonfire had long ago been lost, and without it, the caravan was slowly being ground down into the dust. To survive, they had adopted the ways of the Old Soot, and at a young age Rogafi learned those traditions from his grandmother, the clan's matriarch. It was a hard, meager life, but it was the only one that young Rogafi had ever known.

The Levilse Caravan is gone, now. Travelers discovered the tangled, rotting remains of their wagons littering the rocky back roads the Levilse had walked, with not a sign of life or death among them. Rogafi won't say what happened, or how he came to become a street rat in the alleys of Viola, but the nomads love to whisper.

[i]"The Levilse fell victim to a plague, and young Rogafi was sent away before he could fall ill."

"A monster destroyed the caravan, and swallowed them all whole, except for little Rogafi, who was too small to even be a morsel."

"The old gods came to collect the ashen tax, and only Rogafi escaped."[/i]

Without his family, and mage-eyes that make it clear what tradition he follows, Rogafi scrabbled to survive in the streets of Viola, until he was old enough to take on the first courier job he could find. He's run the long roads ever since, always with one eye looking over his shoulder. 

[h3][u]I N V E N T O R Y            [/u][/h3]
[indent]❖  Hunting Knife
❖ Rations, five days
❖ Waterskin
❖ Courier's Satchel; Contents: Unknown
❖ Compass
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[h3][u]O T H E R            [/u][/h3]
Anything that doesn’t fit in the other sections?  Throw it here!
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