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Growing up in the Lower Buroughs of Arx, Sullivan spent the majority of his early life like the majority of the unwashed masses there: Hungry, angry, and barely scraping by. That is until he turned 12 and stumbled upon a ship bound for the untamed wilds, filled with Abandoned, money, and adventure for the warriors willing to brave it. Enamored with the potential and fed up with living as a poor orphan, he snuck aboard the ship, stowed away in the hull, and managed to use his skills to scrape by until they docked at their destination. By all accounts Sullivan should have been left for dead in those forests, prey to whatever men or beast that live there. But he was lucky. Lucky enough first to find that the crew of the ship was filled with charitable men and women who didn't strand him then and there. Lucky after when he accompanied them on an expedition that, though most were slaughtered by an Abandoned tribe that attacked, that particular clan spared him because he was so young. And even luckier when he was eventually let go to stumble his way back to Compact civilization a year older and a year wiser. But that year changed him. He learned their language, not just fast, but extraordinarily fast. He learned their customs, enough to fit in, and found that he was pretty adept at emulating them when necessary. And he learned that he kind of liked the danger, immensely satisfied by the rewards that came with it should he be successful. And that set him on his path. Upon eventually returning to Arx at 15, he spent the next two years scraping by, trying to use his new skills to make some kind of money. At 17 he hit it big when he met a Scholar of Vellichor. Maybe he was lucky, maybe the woman took pity on him, or maybe he was damn good at what he did. He taught her of the tribe and their language, told her his story, and within six months he was on board another ship, setting sail to explore the unmarked wild. And so he did, for years. Over a decade of paid, professional work, sailing from one coast of Arvum to another and beyond, to Eurus where he could learn their languages. To places some people have never dreamed about. But now he's back in Arx, ready to settle in and use his skills where they might be necessary. To act as the translator for those that might need it. Maybe he'll get lucky again.

Neither the most handsome nor the most hideous of men, Sullivan proudly sits on the better side of average. Likely to his advantage, even, as an extremely attractive or ugly man could seriously impact his work. Not particularly short, nor too tall, his frame is wiry and thin, entirely unassuming. Not that he could actually fight his way out of anything if he tried, it just rightfully marks him as someone who is not a threat. His black hair is usually slicked back over his head, his skin tanned from years under the sun, and an angular face make up the remainder of his defining features, but otherwise this man is quite plain.

Sullivan may not be the most handsome man alive, but he's certainly quite silver-tongued. He needs to be, given the fact that he sometimes interacts with the most dangerous and savage men and women of Arvum and beyond. A scholar by nature, and a lover of knowledge and intellect, he's not one for fighting or violence, instead hoping to all hopes that he can talk his way out of the dangerous situations he often finds himself in. Though he's certainly not one to brag, the fact that he started exploring the world at 12 has lived over almost two decades in that practice might speak for itself. Beyond that, he might not be the average follower of Vellichor: he loves jokes, especially puns, enjoying a drink or three with new friends, and regularly spends as much time talking to people as he does reading books.