"A mysterious battle-worn swordsman, wandering westward in search of someone he has lost."
Name: The Hanged Man
Nicknames: the man with the scars, the man thrice-hanged, old crow, oathbreaker, dog
Class: wandering swordsman, once-knight
Deity: sometimes he swears by an unknown goddess, but he does not seem very pious
Age: difficult to tell--can appear as young as 25 or as old as 40 depending on his mood, the light, etc; his features are naturally boyish, but clearly he has been weathered by time
Body Type: broad-shouldered and stocky, though not too tall
Weight: 220-225 lbs.
Complexion: light, but tanned--quick to blush
Hair: long dirty blond, often tied up in a warrior's topknot
Eyes: intense dark green; sunken and haunted with deep shadows beneath them
Scars: uncountable; his hands and forearms are palsied due to extensive scarring, and he has an unhealing gash on his left cheek
Mannerisms: picks at his scars, drinks heavily
Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny green e'en
Wi' a lock o' his gowden hair-o
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare-o.
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
The Hanged Man is a mysterious figure who always travels west, until he is distracted by a quest or adventure. Whenever asked about his destination he says he is searching for "the Red Lord" or "the Lord of the Lances," though it's unclear who this man was, if he ever even existed. Crows seem to follow him everywhere he goes. Sometimes he seems mysterious and wise beyond his years, while others he seems little more than a pathetic mess, dependent on drink to get him through the long nights.
The Hanged Man has a grim sort of appearance, and some have claimed him to be a psychopomp who comes to lead soldiers into what comes after. It is clear he has known many years of warfare, and he often is plagued by nightmares. He wears black armor, though it is usually hidden under a voluminous hooded mantle the color of dust. At his side he carries a black-bladed falchion with a garnet set in the pommel, as well as a massive tower shield covered in burlap to hide the device emblazoned upon it. His arms are scarred terribly and at times twitch, freeze, or spasm--he often covers them with heavy leather gloves or gauntlets. He favors his left leg when he walks and may use his shield like a crutch. Contrasting his scruffy appearance are his facial features, which are rather rounded and boyish, though the years of wandering have made them a little gaunter.
Many a one for him makes mane
But none shall ken where he is gane
O'er his white bones when they are bare-o
The wind shall blow for ever mair-o
The wind shall blow for ever mair.