Micah René Arclight, alias “Razorgrin”
Height: 6’2" (182 cm)
Weight: 185 lbs (83 kg)
US-born Londoner, turned Bee at age 28. Drafted to the Reds due to handy proximity, the Templars got there first. Otherwise Micah would have likely gotten on with the Dragons best, because Chaos is like a fine wine, best served with steak and maybe served as a lil apertif, but only if it’s a sweet red because who honestly enjoys drinking a dry red it’s like sucking on a fruit flavored cotton ball, or maybe it’s a white wine and then you’d probably pair it with pasta-- wait, what were we talking about again?
Oh, right, Razorgrin-- yeah, that guy. Knows nothing about nothing, and usually likes it better that way. Knows just enough to find suitable amounts of trouble, but generally a pleasantly bewildered fella who takes life’s hits as they come and then giggles about it later. Enjoys a good laugh and a good time.
Upon induction to Beedom, naturally drawn to Blood Magic and Fist weapons, a Ravager. Mildly bemused to find that a Ravager is traditionally a healer’s role in the Secret World, and has since been enlightened to the other various and myriad implements of havoc available to him and is thusly like a kid in a candy shop, wracked with indecision and ultimately coming to the conclusion that yes, yes he can have all the toys and that’s exactly what he’ll do.
Makes poor decisions on accident. Wound up with the black Oraphim which is, like, the bad guy wings maybe? Doesn’t see himself as a bad guy but then again, nobody ever does. Overall, Razorgrin is mostly driven by impulse, but then again, who isn’t?
Never ask him to explain the elf ears or the warlock talons. You won’t get a straight answer, anyway.