"Many entities have little trust of that which they do not understand. Unknown consequences spurn the mortal mind."
"I know! You'd think they'd be delighted to help pave the way for the progress of knowledge! But no, it's always 'What did you do with my house, Fyren!' 'You turned the Northern Kingdom of Gluzpholia into pressed HAM, Fyren!?' 'Who am I, and why aren't I wearing pants, Fyren!?'"
From beneath the large rim of a dark-brown leather witch's hat glow two highly intense cat's eyes of deepest emerald flecked with bits of mirrored silver. These glittering orbs subtly illuminate the asymmetric network of silvery sigils, arcane runes and electronic schemata decorating his otherwise jet black visage; recursive fractal markings that envelop parts of his short, soft fur with the wet sheen of polished rubber, except where a broad grin resting somewhere between feline overconfidence and outright mania generally crosses a blunt, snow-white muzzle.
The silver glyphic network, which shifts color and even shape with his emotional state, highlights the rest of his 5'8" form, tracing every curve and muscle of his lithe body and well-toned limbs, except wherever pure white fur covers him - his throat, chest, belly, and paws. His body motions are sweeping and dramatic and often unnecessarily so, and one might diagnose him with hyperactivity were such moves not at least reasonably graceful.
A flowing, deep crimson cape, clasped at his throat with a metal Moebius strip, hangs behind his shoulders, with a red silk sash over his left. Loose-fitting black pants allow his fluid feline motions to go unimpeded. Most of this clothing is embroidered with gold arcane sigils, and while these have nowhere near the intricacy or life of his full-body integrated arcanocircuit, they do look nifty, and seem to require no further justification.
By some accounts, he's a wandering scholar, a student of Life out to learn everything he can; By others, he's a lesser demon, kicked out of the Nether Regions for not playing the power-games that demons liked. Some say he's an Infomancer who wields enough power to turn half a continent into pressed ham; others say he couldn't infomance his way out of an SDRAM chip.
The truth is, as always, somewhere in between.
He likes to think of himself as curiosity incarnate, a creature out to ask all the questions, push all the buttons, and see what happens when you do. He loves showing off, loves a good flashy spell, and loves finding new ways of doing so. He also loves new experiences - something the Mess isn't lacking in. Early on in his time on the Mess, he was led to the conclusion that "Around here, you never know which cheese sandwiches will destroy the universe, and which are merely tasty" by a cat-slave without arms. There are very few buttons he will not press, with only minimal regard for his own safety; he has been known to walk into blatant traps and let some hostile actions succeed simply because he wishes to know what will happen.