<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://i371.photobucket.com/albums/oo154/PhantomPistoleer/Elf_by_artbytravis.jpg)</td><td><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 30pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Edwardian script itc;">Draque Cyredeplith</span></span><hr/><tt class="bbc_tt">Elven Rogue/Ranger, Level 3;<br/>Current HP: 25; Condition: Normal (Cold);</tt><hr/><br/>Embittered cold asked a rhetorical question, Draque could only shrug, freezing.  Though he bore a magical vestment and his explorer's outfit was in top shape, the biting frost that chilled the bones when a soul is drenched penetrated the layers of leather, cloth, armor and flesh anyway.  The cold and the smelly burning pete made Draque desire, for once, to have a home, a wife and a family, where he wouldn't have to suffer such nonsense.  But Draque was not a family man.  Aye, he had a good soul, or as good a soul a man can have if his entire life is blackened by commiserated evil, but a family man he was not.  No, no other profession on the planet could please him more than that of an adventurer; this profession alone possessed the thrills, the challenge and the rewards that could motivate this unique elf.<br/><br/>A few words on his appearance:  Draque was tall and slender, with broad shoulders and a low brow.  His black hair, flat against his scalp due to the rain, was oft unruly, but lately, he's been tying it or braiding it in the company of his ranger colleague.  He possessed deep cerulean eyes with a speck of green that orbited his dark brown pupils.  His flesh was slightly bronzed, which dispossessed him at times of his elven nature.  He seemed to lack the etherealness of the elven culture, but not their presence of mind;  nevertheless, he admitted that he was not the best representative of the elven aesthetic, despite being the pinnacle of the race's natural abilities.  No, Draque did not make for a good elf, either.<br/><br/>He chewed the fat with Miaren, who presumably understood his concern for the three women when he said:  "I don't care about the women; I just hate giants."  Though he never fought a giant, and did not have the knowledge that the gnomes possessed in thwarting them, he decided on the day that he heard of the ladies' plight that he absolutely detested them.  Of course, Miaren and anyone with half-a-mind could see that Draque <em>cared</em> about the welfare of others, and was eager to get their trip underway.<br/><br/> "What makes people want to live in a ruddy place like this, Miaren?  These people look like they're dead and they don't know it." Draque was not drinking anything; he was always broke.</td></tr></tbody></table>