Sinahl
Sinahl. Madrat.
Alchemist. It's a job, a task, a profession for this rat, who walks the alleyways and wanders the streets, moving with someone who haunts the things unseen by any eye but his. Incoherent, half way evil, and oprotunistic, this rat, madrat, lives amongst the refuse and trash and lower quarters of the city.
Where he comes from is difficult to tell, for his chittering tongue is from a distant port, and asking him his past is an exercise of futility, for he doesn't know, refuses to say, and is afraid of the answer. Or all three. Madrat.
His business is good; though the quality of his work is questionable. His potions rarely have ill effects and problems with it, but there are rumors of poisons switched with tonics, with what would heal instead burning, acids mixed with waters that create smokes that reveal horrible things. But he knows things, and is learned in ways that most gutter-rats would not be. He knows terrible things. Or maybe it's terrible rumors, because he will work to solve problems when problems are found. When he gives his word, he can be trusted. MADRAT
Brass Gauntlet Embedded into the left shoulder and arm of the rat is a gauntlet, with tubes and wires running into the skin, and a look of mild infection visible. The origins and use of this gauntlet are unknown, though there is a faint after-image of magical energy about it. In theory, with tuning, effort, enough coin and a few fresh souls it could be fixed up, but the cost of doing so would be prohibitive to actually be worth a damn.
Madrat. Madrat? Madrat. MADRAT!!!
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