A brief discription of my character De'ath in the PBeM game that I am currently involved in.

De'ath is Dark Elf of Lodoss, but that is as far as the similarities go. He keeps his hair close croped to his head, dies it black and keeps it spiked. His eyes, unlike that of his kin, are devoid of color, short of the few grey specks that can be seen in them. He stands about 6 feet 1 inches, and has so fine tuned his body, that nearly every muscle can be seen and defined. His disarming smile tends to put you at ease. He wears tight, form fitting leather pants and high boots that go up to the knees. He wears a shirt made of silk, that is cut into a V that exposes his chest, and along the sleeves, you can barely make out two black leather gauntlets. He wears a black hooded cloak and if you look carefully, you will see the hilt of a sword slightly protrudeing from right his side, under the cloak, but no further weapondry can be seen asside from a coiled whip on his left hip.

De'ath stares at the tapestries wondering, letting his mind slip, and dare to investigate why he of all people had been summoned to the palace. To meet with the ruler himself? His eyes focus on a spot in the tapestry as he forgets his self and his training, and thinks of the possibilities, then reality hits, and he begins to become concerned. 'No' he mumbles, 'This can't be good'. He curses himself for leaving his blade, but then resigning at the thought that it would do him no good once inside those doors. He scans the area, searching for anything that might be used as a tool. He studies the guards, picking out every weapon they posses, and thinks of their precise use. He steels his mind, preparing for whatever may come. One truth sits with him, no matter what he does, whatever lies behind that door is inevitable. He pulls his muscles taunt, flexing and stretching each in turn as he waits. Seeing his appearance in the reflection of the well-polished door, he inspects himself, from the top of black spiked hair, overlooking his trim fit build, down to the elegant clothing he wore for the occasion. He smiles, and reminds himself, 'This is just a game'.
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The doors cracked a bit to let the attendant through. He had a quiver in his step, but he was better now that he was out of that room. Emperor Falkin was to say the least intimidating. Looking forward he saw the object of his quest. The dark elf was just standing there looking at the tapestries, �how base�. �My Lord De�ath, Emperor Falkin will see you now.� The word rolled off of his tong with but a slight hiss.

The attendant then bowed in the customary fashion of a Marmo slave. His head touched the ground, and he averted his eyes. A guard opened the door again this time for De�ath. �This way sir the Emperor awaits.�