[hider=Faustus] [center][h3]Faustus[/h3] the Merchant, the Accursed, the Broker, the Whisperer[/center] [b]Rank:[/b] Revenant minor [b]Description:[/b] Exotic, almost otherworldly--the sight of Faustus is magnetic, drawing the gaze of children and men alike, though of course most don’t dare look [i]too[/i] closely, casting furtive glances only for a moment, or else staring out of the corner of their eyes whilst they pretend to look elsewhere. They would not want to offend one of his obvious wealth and influence, after all. The cloying and near-overpowering odors of perfume, frankincense, and other stranger scents waft into the nose and herald Faustus’ approach even before his odd clothes, demeanor, and footsteps do. [i]’To ward off evil,’[/i] he’s been known to joke whenever one’s nose wrinkles too noticeably. Beyond the eternal presence of that smell, there is nothing constant about Fausus’ appearance. He has a thousand different strange outfits, masks, turbans, and the like for just as many different people and occasions, and probably just as many names and identities that he’s offered to the living. Perhaps he truly is as corpulent as he looks, but equally likely is that he pads his clothes, or just wears layer upon layer that he can shed them as quickly and easily as he changes names. He often wears a turban, or some sort of veil, or even a mask, but on the odd occasion he does show his pallid face (or part of it, anyhow) to the living, and somehow it can pass. Harder to pass are his eyes. For that means, he often carries vials of some strange eyedrops along his belt or tucked into pockets and folds of his robe, right beside the vials of other strange substances like cloyed red wine...or is that blood? [b]Background:[/b] Rumor has it that Faustus was a very wealthy and greedy merchant in life, who willingly offered his soul and service to Eagoth if only he could keep his treasures and carry on as a merchant just as he had done in life. Perhaps that is the case, but it would hardly matter now. Whatever fortune he may have carried over into his current state would have been nothing before the absurdity of the wealth that he now owns; [i]perhaps[/i] Eagoth has received enough tribute and trinkets over the years to rival Faustus’ many hoards. [i]Perhaps.[/i] But certainly there would be few others even among the elite revenants major with so much gold and jewels, for few among the undead find reason to care for such things now. Their lack of craving for gold is arguably the driving factor behind much of Faustus’ success as well as his purpose. As the present state of Leria did nothing to tarnish its gold, and the excavations of graveyards and tombs unturned countless treasures while the sacking of every last city freed even more, Faustus was able to collect vast amounts of wealth, or barter for it easily enough. Though he certainly enjoys owning all of those treasures, he uses them for a practical enough purpose--trading with the living. Only a few very unscrupulous men know the truth behind the mysterious figure that Leria calls Faustus, though there have certainly been many a black-market fence or other type that had suspicions. Still, the truth of how a revenant minor (along with his small group of loyal ghouls) could slip past the naval blockades in the dead of night, land upon the shores of the living, and infiltrate society successfully enough to do such dealings is so preposterous that none take it seriously. So for decades Faustus has managed to do precisely that, trading gold and other useless things in exchange for exotic liquors, strange alchemical ingredients, and other even weirder goods that he in turn can offer to those revenants major who ply their trades in the Meatworks or dark laboratories, or who simply find some pleasure in maintaining collections of oddities in their undeath. Perhaps even more important than the goods he smuggles into Leria is the information that he brings. Though acting as a spy has never been Faustus’ greatest desire and greed for gold and lust for good bargains has always claimed a greater part of his heart, he is nonetheless one of the only sources of information concerning the goings on of the mainland and the machinations of the living and their various political realms. That near-monopoly on gossip and whispers has made Faustus valuable enough to even have the attention of Eagoth, rumors say, as well as his ear. [b]Wards:[/b] Faustus treads a strange line between revenant major and minor. He is certainly clever, and rather independent; however, he does not directly rule any territory or command any army, govern any fief, or even hold any formal role or supervisor, really. He simply does as he pleases, and makes himself useful and indispensable enough to the powers that be to be granted relative impunity. He keeps his possessions spread far and wide, with the largest depots split between the vicinity of the Meridions for easy access to the shortest smuggling routes, and the others kept on hand near Necron and its surroundings where Faustus dwells most of the time when he is not ‘at work’ along his smuggling routes. He often does keep a cohort of ghoul helpers to assist in transporting and guarding the various troves of his illicit cargo scattered across Leria, but those ghouls are expendable and they come and go; he barters them away to revenants major like any other good. More important is his Motley Crew, a group of ghouls dressed nearly so brightly and strangely as he so as to pass for living (albeit odd, and foreign) humans from afar. It is they who are his sailors, rowing him across the sea when he makes his occasional forays out of Leria. But when they reach their destination, be it a sprawling ports or an abandoned cove, they always retreat below deck or otherwise find a way to keep a low profile so that Faustus may carry out his secretive work alone, unhindered by their presence.[/hider]