Ixenternock

Note: Ixen appears as a tall man, roughly 6'6, with a squareish jaw and angular nose. His hair is grey, flaring into a crest down his neck, and into fuzzy muttonchops on the sides of his face. His eyes are brown, with occasional hints of orange. His build lies somewhere between muscular and wiry, as though his legs grew too fast for the muscles to catch up.

He wears a reddish-orange shirt with black pants, and has a menagerie of satchels and bags strapped to his legs and waist. An odd, draping piece of fabric hangs off of the end of his shirt, roughly mimicking a tail. He wears bracers and boots with spikes on the outside edges. Other than that, his outfit is sparsely decorated.

[Full Name] Ixenternock
[Nicknames] Ixen, Ix, Ternock
[Age] Claims to be 978, appears to be mid-sixties
[Gender/Pronouns] He/Him
[Affiliation] None
[Rank/Occupation] Wanderer
[Alignment] True Neutral


[Personality]
Ixen is the sort of eccentric, curious old man one might expect living in the basement of a castle with nothing but a notebook to keep him busy. He is not the sort of man one would expect to be wrapped up in delusions, and yet - there he is. He only truly cares for his own well-being, seeing others as an entirely different species. He looks at people the way one might look at an intriguing, unknown insect.

This doesn't mean he thinks others are inferior, or that they're animals. Rather, they're simply a very interesting subject for him to study, like one might watch a chemical reaction or an anthill. He doesn't tend to help people a whole lot, but he doesn't like seeing them be hurt, either.

This makes getting to know him very difficult. He's very open about what he thinks his past is like, and is able to brush off confused comments about it with ease. He thinks what he says is right, though he isn't outright arrogant about it. However, everything beyond his own fabricated tale is strictly off-limits, and will result in him laughing directly in your face.

To summarize: Ixen is an old, inquisitive mind with a habit of dismissing other's thoughts in favor of his own ideas. He travels often and never speaks to people with the intent of being friends - oh, he's interested in what makes them tick, yes, but he doesn't really need companions (or so he thinks). He doesn't wish to harm, but he doesn't want to help, either. The world runs just fine without his interference.

[Backstory]
Ixen adamantly believes that he was once a dragon. How could he not, when he remembers it so vividly - soaring upon the skies, belching fire down below, savoring the crackling smell of burnt flesh? Oh, he remembers those days vividly. Unfortunately, in this reality, he was never anything but a human.

It was thanks to some bizarre accident in his middle years that led to the loss of his former memories and his subsequent descent into delusion and madness. Nobody, not even him, knows what it is. A trauma of some sort, maybe, or a particularly strong blow to the head. Whatever the case, when Ixen awoke from the darkness without a memory of so much as his name, he quickly fashioned a new reality for himself.

Now, he believes his true purpose is to regain his former glory. He sails throughout the Archipelago in the hopes of finding a miracle cure. He admits that curing himself may never be a possibility, and is open to accepting his fate, but only if he manages to stumble across a place that allows him to be himself without ridiculing him for what he is. His only memories of the past consist of his hoard: a collection of battered trinkets, stored safely in the motley zoo of bags across his torso and legs. A feather on a chain, a single palm-sized scale glassy as obsidian, a broken bottle, a bag of copper wire. These, and many other things, are what he holds dearest.

[Name] dragon name here
[Class] dragon class here
[Species] dragon species here

[Temperment]
What is your dragon like? Feel free to be as brief or detailed as you wish!

[Backstory]
Optional, especially for canon characters, how did you and your dragon meet?