The short answers

Length: Five feet and six inches
Weight: Twenty five pounds
Type: Claymore
Made of: Steel

 Mermeth is a fine blade, obviously smithed of some long since dead civilization that only had recently discovered that fine smelting technique to make steel itself. Pounded, bashed, and forged into a two handed hacking blade. With even a fine tapering end that's just perfect for parrying blows, and a wide angled hilt to catch and defend with. The leather that is wrapped around the handle is worn down from years of having mitts hold it and swing that sharp slab of steel at poor sops, it?s even easy to make out the grooves of those fingers; honestly it probably could use a repair or at least a new grip. The pommel itself is a rounded thing and rather bland, though it seems to have a few dents in it from cracking open a head or two. It doesn't take much of a nose for enhancements to smell the magic that bleeds from the sword itself, it's honestly like an arcane beacon if one is really trying to see if it's magical.

-
Oh wait, maybe this should be about the man that blade is strapped to, after all meat has more visual appeal than a tool of death.

-The feller-
Height: Six foot six
Weight: Two hundred and twenty nine pounds
Eye Color: Green, jadish green if you're trying to figure out which paint swatch you want for your walls.
Race: Human? Shit who the fuck knows what race anyone is here really?
Build: Brick house

-
 Drekvar seems to have somehow pissed off fate, or maybe just life itself. He's been hit with so many sharp and blunt objects that he?s forever been marred by their sweet, sweet bloody violent kisses. His mug seems to have been one of his main defenders from these sharp objects he's got coming from him. What with having a nose bent from being broken three of nine times and just a speckle of little nicks, gouges, and dents in his flesh. He even has two tightly grouped scars that start up right at his left temple and carve down over his left eye and end right over his poor bent nose. It's obvious whatever caused those wounds with excellent grouping took the use of that left eye because he?s got a bit of shitty old leather strapped over the socket, there?s even a little metal plate over where his eye used to be in the leather. His throat also has a fancy smile on it from some idiot that didn't know it was in, up, and across for a kill.

-
 The rest of him, is just as battered as his mug, while the phrase a sea of scars, or even a hide of them is common this man puts all those who claim such a title to shame. He?s been hacked, slashed, bashed, light on fire, stabbed, speared, and all sorts of other words that rest in a thesaurus to describe the multitude of old wounds. He even seems to have been blasted by something right in the gut which turned his six pack of abs into a four pack. But ever the crafty one he's placed a metal grate right in his gut to make up for the lack of meat that would rest there. He's really a series of slipshod repairs, with bolts in his spine in a poor attempt to try and hold his body together so he can stand straight, with more of those lug nuts in both of his knees to make up for no doubt a set of bum legs.

-
 He's even at one point in his life tried to cover up all those wounds with a tattoo that covers him from head to toe. It's just black tribal vines that slither to curl around his body, and even creep up his throat and under his eyes. But alas, he should have thought about what would happen as his lifestyle was applied to this inking. Because just a fresh layer of weapons have been applied to him to damage all that hard work and cost of the body tattoo, and caused some of it to bleed out from his skin, and in other places just break apart the consistent design.

-
 At least his lifestyle of constant combat has some perks, he's a big guy. It's one part what must be a tribal birthing giving him a natural height with broad shoulders and a square jaw Bruce Campbell would be proud of. But years of wearing heavy armor and running around with an over sized bit of metal has given him a tough set of muscles. He's no body builder and lacks that huge quality that most men seem to chase, but instead is built for performance. So, alas he won?t be getting oiled up by some silly bint for a stage show anytime soon, but at least he can swing that enchanted bit of metal strapped to his back.

-
 He speaks like a man that's been taught common twice, once the fine art of the language with that slow flow needed to make sure the enunciation of each word is perfect and a need to staple in a few more words than needed. Then, he was taught the gutter of speech, where it's more a drunken slur than a proper wording of really anything, a tendency for a more blunt. As such he's a poor communicator with a mush mash of speech that just never seems to click together correctly, and often at times seems to find the best way to prod the thin skinned without knowing it.


-OOC shit-
(( It seems descriptions have evolved to have at least some word from the player themselves. As such, I guess I should join in this trend, before I get left behind.

I don't have lights, other than I like to Roleplay and go with the flow. So, jump in the river and lets see where the current takes us. ))