[hider=Rogafi Levilse]
[center][h2][u] ROGAFI LEVILSE [/u][/h2][/center]
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[hider=Portrait][img]http://i.imgur.com/98HWvcx.jpg[/img][/hider]
[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 | No Mage-Eyes[/b] [/h3][/center]

[h3][u]P E R S O N A L I T Y            [/u][/h3]
[indent]❖ [ Wanderlust ]
❖ [ Fatal Curiosity ]
❖ [ Flight, Not Fight ]
❖ [ Guarded ]
❖ [ Paranoid ][/indent]
Rogafi is a traveler by birth, a survivor by necessity, and a wanderer by nature. Born as part of a traveling caravan, he rarely stayed in one place for more than a few days, and he still gets an itch in his feet that only the road can scratch. After the loss of his caravan and family, he scrabbled to survive in the streets of Viola, and even now, he watches those around him carefully as he eats, as if he's afraid that they'll try to take his meal from him. When he's on the trail, he looks ahead with one eye and back with the other. Trouble and Rogafi are old friends, but something in him thrives on adrenaline and adventure. 


[h3][u]A P P E A R A N C E            [/u][/h3]
Rogafi is a thin, angular scarecrow of a man. His gaunt cheeks are covered with a bristly black beard, hiding most of his lower face but his thin lips. The narrowness of his eyes is pronounced by the heaviness of his brow, and his face has the wrinkles of a man ten years his senior.

He wears the heavy brown cloak of a traveler, which has seen more than a few seasons of wear and tear. There are off-color patches where he's done his best to mend tears and holes, but he's never been able to find a scrap of cloth with the precise shade of brown as the rest of the cloak. He finds this irritating, but cannot for the life of him explain [i]why.[/i] Under the cloak, his clothes are equally as worn, and his boots are so broken in that they're practically a second layer of skin. 

He can almost always be seen carrying his courier's satchel, where he keeps his deliveries and packages. The leather is so thick that it could probably deflect an arrow, and it looks like it has on more than one occasion. Looking closer, it's also apparent that it's been kicked, stabbed, clawed, and chewed on, but Rogafi still wears it with pride.

[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 began learning 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, 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
❖  Flint and Tinderbox
❖  Map of Invernier, worn out and covered with notes in Rogafi's handwriting
❖  Waterskin
❖  Courier's Satchel; Contents: various letters and small packages.
❖  Compass
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[h3][u]O T H E R            [/u][/h3]
[indent]❖  Rogafi's eternal traveling companion is Silversmith, a burly gray horse with a taste for apples.
❖  He simply doesn't feel [i]right[/i] when there are four walls around him. In the modern age, a psychiatrist might diagnose him with a relatively mild case of claustrophobia.[/indent]
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