Currently located at The Georgian Lodge.
Name: Severin Tomas George
Clad in shining, gold-plated steel armour, Severin is a striking presence in any situation. Given recent events, his once-immaculate ceremonial plate has been scratched and dented, hastily-patched rends dotting his armour, warped metal indicating where he narrowly dodged a gout of flame. His helm is dominated by an arcane glyph of his own creation, a minor work of divination that allows him to perceive the immediate area in perfect clarity. Beneath his armour, he is a pale man with what could once be considered aristocratic, noble features. However, the ravages of the apocalypse brought on by dragonkind has marred him, his nose obviously frequently broken, and his face pocked and burnt from his battles. His hair is sparse and brown, the stresses of the second draconic war taking their toll on his hairline, with his eyes a simple Hazel.
He rides atop his Wyvern (A subspecies of Dragons specially bred by his family for obedience and flying capabilities: over the centuries, they have been reduced to the intellect of a dog, and have lost their forelimbs and breath capabilities) Thaddeus, a beast too loyal and too dim to realize the ramifications of recent events.
Personality: Severin is proud of his decisions and personal crusade to drive the Dragons to extinction, seeing it as only natural, and a reasonable ending to the vicious cycle of violence and annihilation the two species seem destined to inflict on each other. While he is haughty, a multitude of close calls have driven him to pragmatism, carefully picking his fights, and scavenging and scrounging what little he can from the ruins of civilization.
He cares very little for his magical potential, seeing his minor divination abilities (seeing a second into the future, perfect sight of the surrounding area, dependance on glyphs) as more than sufficient for victory. After all, why predict the future when it is clear? The Dragons shall fall to earth, and rot in the open air.
He wields a long, heavy blade for his work. Its once shining surface is covered with nicks and scratches, unavoidable given his interactions with Draconians. Its tip is thick and heavy, carefully balanced for use as a cleaving instrument, the perfect tool to deal with the thick hide of dragons.
For airborne combat, he also makes use of a sturdy crossbow, and a single harpoon, bound to his saddle with iron chains.
Opinion of dragons: Ravenous, murderous beasts who seek to destroy all he holds dear. For the most part, they have succeeded.
Likes: Thaddeus, flying, quiet, the finer things in life, dragon-slaying.
Dislikes: Dragons, useless fops, dragon sympathizers, poor weather, poor vintages of wine.
The Georges have been a prominent fixture in Haniyas since the first war. Renowned for capturing an entire clan of Wyverns (and promptly devolving them over the following centuries), they have maintained their position through cunning, ruthlessness, and an iron will. Severin was the youngest child of Sebestain Trevas George, and was considered to be the runt of the litter. His brothers were stronger, more charismatic, more favoured by his father. Severin, while hardly lax in those regards, was inferior to his brothers. His sole redeeming feature was his inherent magical ability. While rough and inefficient, based off the idea of an equivalent exchange, it was enough to keep him relevant to his brothers. He arrived at the family lodge shortly before The Spell, preparing it for the traditional family dragon hunt. The Spell cut him off from his family, and he has no choice but to presume them dead.
After The Spell, Severin has occupied himself with hunting down dragons that dare to fly the skies of Haniyas, employing the clinical and brutal fighting style customary of the Georges: No mercy, no respite, no beauty. Only precisely applied violence.