Deathmeddle is, in a word, addled. After a number of centuries spent mostly in a state of thirst, sufficient permanent damage has been done to his mind that it is unlikely to ever function properly again. Still, despite being impaired, his mind is intensely powerful, cable of short-term moments of brilliance that briefly overwhelm the usual brooding darkness of brain-damage.
No longer aware of his vampirism, Deathmeddle happily tells people what he is, joyfully expecting he is engaging in an elaborate stylish ruse. Unwilling to actually engage in any act that would conclusively prove his claims – sensibly and conveniently preserving his safety – he is fully immersed in what he understands to be a role. His poor execution of what he believes to be a lie is so disarming none suspect him, or if they do, none have bothered to act against him.
Having at times played as part of any of a number of traveling bands, he is locally renowned for penning such beloved fan-favorite double-entendre-laden ballads as “I’ve Got a Twelve-Inch Dagger” and “The Animal In Me”, as well as the strangely enlightened and startlingly thought-provoking serenade supporting alternate lifestyles, “Monster In The Closet”, he has displayed shards of a sharp yet shattered intelligence through song.
Recently he has been resident at the Taproot Inn at Phaendar within Nirmathas for somewhere in excess of three invasions and is delighted to make the acquaintance of a never-ending stream of newcomers, each of which claim to be permanent residents.
