Fregrin "The Dread Pirate" Blackheart
The Mad Dog of Suzail
Skull Dragon of Waterdeep

Appearance:
He stands at about six feet tall, his presence quiet yet commanding, the kind of person who draws attention even when he's trying to disappear into the crowd. His most striking feature is the eye patch that covers his right eye, a piece of black leather secured by a thin strap that cuts diagonally across his face. Beneath it lies a secret, a scar that begins at his brow and disappears into the patch.

His remaining eye gleams with a molten gold hue, sharp and discerning, catching light like a predator's gaze in the dark. It has a way of making people feel both seen and judged, as if Fregrin can read the truth beneath their words.

His hair is short and tousled, just covering his ears. It's an arresting mix of black and silvery-white, as though the color has been burned out by time or some unnatural force. The strands catch the light with a metallic sheen, giving him an almost ethereal, otherworldly air.

His skin is lightly tanned but marked with faint lines--evidence of years spent under harsh suns and harsher circumstances. He carries himself with the posture of a man used to vigilance: shoulders squared, head slightly tilted as if always listening for something unseen.

Tattoos and marks:
|Right side|
Fregrin bears a striking tattoo upon the right side of his neck, a tribute etched in black and crimson. At its center, Kel'riia Zau'lyl, name is written in bold, elegant script, the letters curved with the flourish of devotion. On either side of her name perch two ravens, their wings slightly spread as if caught mid-motion. The intricate feathers are inked in shades of deep black and shadowed gray, their eyes glowing a vivid crimson red, like tiny embers watching over her name.

Just below the ravens, near the curve of Fregrin's collarbone, is a bite mark tattoo, faintly jagged and bruised with inked reds and purples, as though the skin had once truly been marked by teeth. It gives the impression of passion, a wound immortalized in art. Together, the imagery tells a story of loyalty and the kind of love that leaves scars too deep to fade.

|Left side|
Fregrin's tattoo curves along the left side of his neck like a living thing, as though it were etched there by wind and flame rather than ink. The words sia lerovupel myink are written in flowing draconic script, each character elongated and sharp-edged, resembling talons dragged through stone. The lettering follows the natural line from just beneath his ear down toward his collarbone, tapering slightly as it descends, giving the impression of motion, like a storm spiraling downward from the sky.  
The ink itself is a deep, storm-dark hue: not quite black, but threaded with subtle undertones of indigo and iron-gray. In certain light, faint metallic flecks catch and shimmer, as if lightning were trapped beneath his skin. The strokes vary in thickness, some bold and commanding, others thin and whisper-fine, creating a rhythmic contrast that mirrors the rise and fall of thunder.  Each draconic rune carries its own weight and meaning.
The characters for sia are sharp and ascending, evoking wind shearing across mountain peaks. Lerovupel stretches longer, its curves more fluid, suggestive of rain-lashed skies and rolling clouds. The final word, myink, ends in a hooked flourish that seems almost protective, like a dragon's wing folding inward.
Together, the phrase feels both fierce and intimate, a declaration carved in a language born of fire.  Up close, the tattoo looks slightly raised, as though the symbols were pressed into his skin while still warm. It frames his neck with quiet intensity, beautiful, dangerous, and deeply personal. To those who know the draconic tongue, it reads clearly as "My beautiful storm", a poetic vow that speaks of devotion, chaos, and awe entwined, forever carried close to his pulse.
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Fregrin's Onyx Heart pulsed like a caged star, a single shard of midnight fire set deep into the fortress of his chest. Around it, black scales overlapped in tight, armor-like layers, each one rimmed with a faint, smoky sheen, as though forged from cooled volcanic glass.

The heart itself glowed with a slow, deliberate throb, casting veins of silver-blue light through the gaps between the scales. Every beat sent a ripple of luminescence skittering across his chest, illuminating the jagged patterns etched into the dark plates. When he breathed, the scales shifted subtly, catching the light like wet obsidian and revealing the faint ember-lines that traced outward from the heart, as if the thing were burning its presence into him from the inside.

At rest, the Onyx Heart seemed quiet, brooding, ancient, self-contained. But when stirred by emotion or power, it deepened to a fierce violet-black brilliance, the kind of glow that swallowed shadows rather than cast them. The surrounding scales tightened protectively, humming with a low, metallic resonance, as though responding not to muscle but to the will of the heart itself.

Fregrin carries long and dark claw-like marks upon his forearms, the vivid ribbon of black and red of arcane runes do not conceal this scratches that dug deep and left their imprint upon him.  The long array of scratch marks does not look they were made by handling a wild cat, they looked made by an untamed and unruly female that got too carried away in the moment of argument or maybe lust? Who knows.

((Player is very tell friendly, best way to know folks is by talking!))