Description: This tall, flawlessly-conditioned bronze-skinned man stands with a torso that is bare but for the myriad of vividly-inked, violent images tattooed over almost every visible inch. Most of them contain a fiery mixture of reds, yellows and oranges and display various depictions of anger and struggle: one that stretches around his left bicep displays the charred carcass of a shore-bound ship surrounded by torch-bearing soldiers whose arms are raised in triumphant cheer; beneath it on his forearm is a depiction of several rugged, hard-faced men kneeling and gagged, bound to a series of posts with a gaggle of crossbowmen aiming at them from a short distance. On the back of his left hand the word "History" has been scrawled in blood-red letters. His right bicep is an image of a city with corpses strewn about the streets; many of the buildings' doors and walls are bashed in and atop the tallest, most prominent the blood-red wake and sea serpant of of Thrax flies upon a flag pole. The word "Consequence" has been inked onto the back of this hand. The span of his chest is dominated by the image of a dragon in mid-fight, its fiery maw open in a silent roar of terror as a pair of some massive, disembodied beasts' claws curl over his shoulders, ripping it out of the air to whatever doom awaits. Upon his bald, clean-shaven scalp the sigil of Thrax again has been tattooed in blood red, styled with droplets flowing down his dome to look as though it had been painted rather than inked. His body contains very little hair, sporting it only on his eyebrows, eye-lashes and limbs. He easily tops six feet, possibly closer to six and a half, and his body sports a notable number of scars-- ranging from the piercing wounds of bolts and arrows to the more crude wounds of melee weapons. His visage is strong: it sports a strong jaw, faintly hawkish nose, smoothly-arched eyebrows, darkish lips and a pair of hazel eyes, which reflect a strikingly golden tint in certain lights. When he moves, it's with the fluid, loping ease of a wolf.

Personality: Dour, yet boistrous

Background: The grandson of Donrai Thrax, Prince Wyatt Thrax has always been a classic Thraxian reaver. From the age of eleven, he developed a love for booze, and is rarely seen without at least some alcohol in his system since. He's not usually one to initiate a conflict, but prides himself on finishing one if it should begin. A bit of a womanizer and unapologetic about his Thraxian ways, Wyatt can be ill-received among other cultures. He is naturally gifted in many ways, but unfortunately, is quite lazy-- so while he has trained his body into a fine tool of potential, he has never taken the time to learn proper individual combat. That being said, he has a natural interest in and affinity for the art of war, and has studied this extensively, proving to be theoretically excellent as a potential field general. However, thanks to his constant drinking and womanizing, it seems unlikely that he will ever have an opportunity to put these theoretical skills to use, despite his high social status.