Born to a traveling caravan, Nikolas Zorn is driven and brilliant, but has a confidence in themselves that borders on arrogant. He is a bit of an outsider to the clans, having only come into the town in the last 5 years.

Nikolas Zorn, raised by caravaneers and forged in the furnace of loss, is a brilliant, if arrogant man. The scars about his wrists speak of some terrible night that he is loathe to speak on, and the glint in his eye as he gazes to the horizon hints at the depths of his ambition. He seeks power, true power, the kind that has been lost for so long in Temeria, or hoarded by petty lordlings who don't have the vision or the determination to remake the world.
 
He stumbled into Westmoor some five years ago in the cold and the rain, wearing little more than rags. It's due to his determination that he has been able to make something of himself here, when he arrived with nothing. At first he plied the trade of his native people, telling stories, turning cards, working the odd job here and there to earn bread and coin. But it wasn't long before he gained an apprenticeship with {SOME KIND OF ARTISAN WITH ACCESS TO BOOKS} and began to build a life for himself amongst those who had been strangers.
 
For their part, Nikolas has become an accepted, if slightly distant, member of the community, and he has even found a small circle of acquaintances with whom he spends his time, sipping ale in the tavern or tending to the common tasks about town.

Age

26

Gender

Male

Eyes

Blue

Hair

Black

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Pale