"Moth"

- Pronouns: He/Him

- Voice Traits: He speaks with a low yet exaggerated voice, like an old-school detective from a radio show

- Mannerisms: A hard drinking cynic on the outside prone to unnecessary alliteration and metaphors, he is just as likely to pry for details in the conversations of others as he is to sit alone with his journal and a coffee working on a case (or much more likely his prose while he waits for something interesting to happen). Smokes the occasional cigar and goes for walks in the rain.

- Age: 109 (Which is pretty young for a fae)

-D&D race: Fairy (UA)

-Height: 2 ft

-Weight: 9 lbs

-Hair color: Reddish brown

-Skin color: Pale peach

-Eye color: clear, bluish eyes

-Apparel/Appearance: He wears his long leather coat daily, and always keeps his notepad/spellbook in his breast pocket. The coat has two long cuts down the back held together with weak magnets, so "Moth" can unfurl his wings at any time. His brown-and-cream-spotted wings and his fluffy antenna are the dead giveaways that he is a pixie, something he doesn't advertise but isn't exactly hard to guess based on his size. He keeps a tiny fedora handy for hiding his antenna when he is out among strangers.

-Where is his guild tattoo? For a man of his stature, there isn't a lot of canvas space to paint a full picture onto. He had to...improvise.

-Personality traits: I expect danger around every corner. I am incredibly slow to trust. Those who seem the fairest often have the most to hide. I like to read and memorize poetry. It keeps me calm and brings me fleeting moments of happiness

Ideals:

Freedom. Chains are meant to be broken, as are those who would forge them. However, a deal is a deal, all contracts and promises are binding. I like to know my enemy’s capabilities and weaknesses before rushing into battle.

-Bonds: I keep my thoughts and discoveries in a journal. My journal is my legacy. My arrogance drove away the person I love. I strive to win back the freedom I’ve lost.

-Family, class & where he lives: He had to leave it all behind in the Feywild, and "Moth" didn't have a concept of how long the bit of gold he took with him would last. He enjoyed the highlife of society very briefly before his well ran dry. Walking the streets in this strange place, he finally found something familiar to a fae like him: con-men running schemes of all kinds. He offered some tips, exposed others to guards, and more or less made a living helping people out of bad deals. He tried running a private investigator's office, but now rents out a room in rotating between local taverns.

-Backstory (as he tells it) "Ever hear the one about the fiend in the Feywild? This one was sick of hearing his peers regale him with their tales of treacheries, all too often wrought upon the realm of men. Getting a patron to spread their influence was one thing, but their proudest exploits were the fools who signed their souls away without reading the fine print. To get the best of his foul fellows, he'd do something that none of them had ever done across their eons at the game; get a Fae to sign on the dotted line.

It's common sense to not trust a demon, no one needs to tell you that. But us, well there's a reason folk still say to 'never trust the Fae'. Despite the reputation, we still get people to trust us all the time. So the fiend manifests as a man in the Feywild, thinking he's played our game for thousands of years longer than any of us alive. That's the type of confidence that makes for the best mark, the ones who think they're smart are always too eager to prove it. They were always my favorite. I saw him not knowing who or what he was and did what I did best. Illusions and misdirection, I had him wandering the woods for days without a wink of sleep before introducing myself. I had my fun and observed all that time, but it didn't add up. He wasn't tired or worried about getting lost, I was what he was looking for. He issued a challenge, stated his terms, I raised the stakes and egged him on. From the trickiest pixie to the most foul of fiends, both of our kinds share an equal fondness and weakness to binding contractual agreements. The challenge and its outcome don't matter, it took us hours to read through the terms of what we had signed to figure out we had played ourselves. Neither of us used our real names, and we both had clauses protecting us from that. Ultimately we were bound, and the only authority with the power to do anything about it was the Fey Queen.

With the contracts being signed in her domain, we approached her court to make our case. It didn't go so well. In her eyes, it was fitting our combined arrogance caused this mess, we deserved one another. She would either make us earthworms to feed to her birds, or let us sign one last document. True names only. Now I'm banned from the Feywild and he's cut off from any other patrons, until together we've helped out as many individuals as either of us had wronged individually in the past. Between a pixie and a Fiend, well, who knows how long that'll take."
That's the story according to him anyways. It seems to line up with how distant yet determined he is when helping someone, and his willingness to take any job that comes his way. But who knows what details he skims over or just omits. Never trust the Fae.

Adventures: