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Gerald Wilkerson has worked his entire life in the business of business. Buying when buying is good, selling when selling is good. Losing it all. Regaining it. His life is tale of ups and downs as can happen with one over the years in a variety of fashions. Still, he takes it with equanimity, being the sort that is rather good at landing back on his feet. Most recently, he has landed in Arx -- not so much retired from business as accepting the fact that he simply doesn't have the desire or, frankly, the stamina to do the sort of running around he might have done in the past. Travel is just not so fun anymore.

Though the years have left their mark on this man's features, he wears them with grace. Laugh lines crinkle at the corners of his gaze and his brow is a furrowed thing, but every inch reflects a life well-lived. Even so, he cares for himself and his grooming, brows kept trim, his beard cropped close, framing his face but not forming it. But it is eyes that reflect that inner spark, for their brilliance has not dimmed with age, like pools of still water on a summer's day. His form is wrought in the same manner, lean and sun-kissed from years and years of travel and hard living. There is something of a whipcord nature to him, like leather stretched too tightly across a drum.

There is something sprightly and jovial about Gerald, easily given to smiles and amusements. All in all, he's something of a simple fellow, generally inclined towards mercantile matters and enjoying various vices. And, of course, a touch of a perchant for storytelling. Why, of course, he has done all these things! Yet, it's always like someone talking about the biggest fish they ever caught, with little aplomb.