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Appearance:
Stepping into a world of drunks and card players, mercenaries, hired killers, and local toughs, you look around seeking one who might be just what you need for that "special" job. Is it the brutish one with tattoos covering his arms and chest holding a burning cigar between his rotted teeth as he ponders his next ante? Perhaps it's the slick-looking con man trying (and apparently getting close to succeeding) to get a rather naive young girl to come up to his room "for a friendly cup of tea and a warm fire"? Nope. Instead, you sit down at the bar as eyes rove over you and your weapons, your clothes, your stance, your demeanor, and that fat purse at your hip. You ask the barkeep for a mug of mead and drop a couple of coins as you casually suggest that he might know who the real toughies are in this town, who might be willing to do something...dishonorable.

The bartender points you toward Wallace.

Wallace is the kind of man you don't notice at first, the one your eyes rolled over almost without realizing he was there. From the black leather of his harness boots and the thick, dark-brown cotton of his travel-worn trousers to the unbuttoned brown leather vest revealing his athletic chest, you see that this one could care less about what's happening around him. He's not lazy, the barkeep says. No, he's just "nonchalant". Right. Nonchalant. That explains the tattoo of a shark in a sea of jellyfish parading down the right side of his torso, covering his pec and half of his six-pack. Or maybe it explains the tattoo of a gorgeous vampire baring her fangs, a woman that covers almost the entire bared flesh of his upper left arm, her head upon his shoulder. His skin is tanned enough that it is clear he has spent many waking hours under the harsh light of a blazing desert sun. His bright-red hair seems to flop everywhere in semi-straight locks that reaches almost to his shoulders; his long bangs are tucked carelessly behind his pointed ears, which are shaped more like crooked teardrops than the ears of an elf would be. But the eyes they flank - oh, how deep are those pools of hazel-green!

Ah, but now he's standing as he entertains a couple of ladies he's charmed into admiring his tattoos. Now he removes his vest and turns around to reveal even more impressive artwork. Now he reveals upon the whole of his back to the women, the painstakingly detailed image of a clawing wolf coaxing from them several compliments. As you approach, he is putting the vest on once more and turning around to face the girls. You ask for a private meeting - business, you say. He tells the ladies to get lost and they wander off, amazed at the sudden disrespect.

The man's voice is deep, but not quite the deep of a war drum. His stance is one of lazy arrogance and apathy, but this does not change as he carelessly drops back into the chair. He folds his arms across his chest and crosses his legs as he rests his booted feet upon the table; you can tell this is nothing new for him by how comfortably he shifts into this bored position. Clearly, this man is confident in his own abilities; he would be intimidating to one without experience, and even to those who have seen combat, he is either naive or - more likely - a former soldier. His diamond-shaped face and five o' clock shadow seem to support the idea that he isn't particularly concerned with his looks.

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Personality:
As you rest yourself carefully in the rickety old chair across from Wallace, you begin to explain your job offer. Watching his body language carefully, you pick up many cues about what this man is like.

He is a bored, lazy individual who likes to do things the quickest and easiest way he can; the less effort he expends and the quicker he can get back to his hedonistic ways, the better. But he is also a relatively greedy man, willing - almost eager, in fact - to argue until he gets the price or payment he wants. He seems a bit stubborn, set in his ways, yet able to adapt to a situation.

Of course, you just HAD to ask about his experience in such matters as that which requires his services.

Wallace is guarded, a dark look coming into his eyes as he gives you as little information as possible about who - or what - he is. He's clearly hiding something, but perhaps he simply doesn't trust you yet. In fact, you'd wager a good deal of gold that he doesn't trust anyone. You happen to make a slight on his inability to give you his background in full, but he doesn't seem to care. He's apathetic to your pleas for information about him. He seems to care not at all for what people say about him, yet his demeanor marks him as one clearly dangerous enough to complete quests that would make others squirm or holler for the guards.

In short, he's a rough customer. On the other hand, he seems to enjoy the ale and the company of women rather strongly. One might consider him a rogue were it not for the muscles that seem to ripple as he moves, to flex as he breathes. Yes...this one will do nicely. Now you just hope you brought enough gold...

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