|Age||32 at time of death|
|Eye Color||Glowing yellow|
|Skin Color||Pale yellow|
In life, Davi wasn't much to look at. His features were thoroughly average and uninteresting. His death altered this considerably. The clawed hand of a ghoul has gouged three jagged diagonal scars across his face, from above his left eye to his chin and jaw line on the right side. The wound has torn the lips from his features, leaving a ghastly permanent smile. Myriad other cuts and holes in his skin of his face show the bone and sinew beneath. His once dusty blonde hair has taken a dull greenish-brown color. He keeps it in the same generic rag-top cut he favored in life. Davi's eyes are twin specks of light that glimmer within hollow sockets.
Davisson's clothing and equipment are in reasonably good condition for one of his kind. He is most often dressed in his combat leathers, though he is fond of custom tailored and loose-fitting shirts. Davi is never far from some manner of bladed weapon, and keeps several knives secreted about his person at all times. A pair of well-used swords usually hang from his belt. The only garment that Davi is never seen without is a long grey scarf wrapped around his neck, on which are pinned his Scytheguard lieutenant badge and his Royal Apothecary Society seal.
Davi is, in general, an overly casual, sarcastic son-of-a-bitch. He is quick to complain when the situation doesn't favor him, though he'll always follow an order from a superior. Davi is fond of giving nicknames to whomever he associates with (i.e. Boss, Mee, Stitchy, etc.) as he feels formality is a bore. He's fiercely loyal to those he fights with. Davisson possesses a dry sense of humor and thoroughly enjoys witty repartee, especially with someone clearly less intelligent than he is.
To a living observer, Davi can appear somewhat distant. He has a poor understanding of many "higher" emotions (love, compassion, etc.) and tends to react strangely in situations which involve such feelings. Early on into his unlife, Davisson harbored a great deal of resentment, even hatred, toward the living. He would only associate himself with others of his kind unless strictly necessary. After longer association with Scytheguard, however, he has developed fondness and even friendship with certain living individuals.
The Forsaken man known as Davisson Colewood was born Thomas Haverhill, the only child of orchard workers living in Elwynn Forest. The Haverhill family was poor but happy, and young Thomas' life was full of as much love as a child could ask for. For a time, at least. Thomas was three years old when the orcs came through the Dark Portal into Azeroth, their forces sweeping across the land like a green-skinned tide. It was by mere happenstance that Thomas survived the massacre that killed his parents, the boy having given chase to a butterfly that lead him away from his home minutes before the orcs sacked it.
The boy was taken in with the hundreds of other war orphans remaining after the destruction of Stormwind, refugees lead by Anduin Lothar north to Lordaeron. The years passed uneventfully for young Thomas, and the boy did the best he could to make the most of his situation. A young priest taught Tom to read, and soon the boy was ravenously absorbing every word he could from any source he could find. He discovered that he had a knack for remembering things he had seen and heard, a fact that astounded the priest.
Thomas was ten years old when, at the insistence of the priest, he was taken in by a minor Lordaeron noble named Alexander Morgent. Morgent, who had a reputation as a shrewd political player moving up in society, was in his middle years and had yet to sire an heir. Young Tom was to be educated and trained to inherit the noble's lands.
Or so he thought.