Peverell Amadeus Reid Foryx is a former archaeologist hailing from Varrock. An old former-human of dubious religious and moral drive, he has been turned into a vampyre as a culmination of a work that has consumed the last hundred or so years of his life. He is played by Ullamh.
The following is an account, by a colleague, of Peverell's disappearance.
It remains a mystery to me and to any who have experienced my story and to any who have heard the story exactly where I went wrong. I know not the manner of Peverell Reid's departure, only that he is now gone. I know neither the manner of his work, nor if it was any cause in effecting his sudden departure. The man himself was ever stable, ever grounded, a gentleman of great esteem in the fair city of Varrock. But now he is gone, and there is naught we can do to find him again, for by all accounts he has crossed from our land over the Salve, and Misthalin and the Museum may never see his like again. A studious figure, he was ever poring over one tome or another, ever learning more and journeying to the dig site east of the city to further his education, but this all changed one day when a shield, a singularly large item of varnished wood with runic carvings and details, was unearthed in the dig site. Peverell himself took an immediate interest, his reasoning being that the runic symbols seemed 'familiar' somehow. He began work with vigour and enthusiasm, and I have never since seen him as excited.
The shield itself was of a magical nature, as all attempts to mark it with sword, magic and arrow were met with failure, though our offensive capabilities were hardly titanic in the business of archaeology. Having ascertained that there was no way we could mark it, a team sallied forth of adventurers, headed by our very own Peverell Reid, perhaps the only man we believed that could handle himself in the wide world beyond. When he left he was hale and whole, perhaps a little absorbed in the shield, which he brought with him in an iron-bound chest. He was gone for perhaps a year, during which time we researched other things, and anticipated his return.
When he did return, it was with an unsettling air about him. He seemed less himself, absorbed in a tome he had found on his journeys. The plight and deterioration of Peverell continued, I fear, from the night he returned home. His focus on his work was lost, and his focus on the tome and the shield grew more fervent with every passing day. The tome itself was a disgusting thing, a patchwork cover that looked to be made of several different shades of rotting, untanned hide, stitched together. He would let nobody see its inner contents, but the glimpses I caught were a mixture of Zarosian, Common and mismatched, gibberish runic symbols. When I confronted Peverell on his strange obsession, he grew angry and chased me from his study. He grew paler, and thinner, and every day there was a strange gleam to his eyes, a terrifying intelligence that grew stronger and stronger. The peak to the events came when he finally showed his work to me, and made plain its blasphemous nature.
Peverell claimed that the tome, once translated, told of a place where evidence lay of a great conspiracy, a plot by forces unknown, ancient beyond measure, to create a pact with blasphemous powers to destroy the River Salve, our barrier to the east from the forces of the dark and evil Lord Lowerniel Drakan. He proclaimed to me that the end was nigh, and that perhaps we would all be in our own best interests to flee the city, to make haste to east or west, to join our enemy or flee him. When I questioned him, declared him mad, he simply stared at me and fled my company, with naught but the minimum polite leave of absence. The enemy itself he did not make clear, though I suspect he referred to Drakan himself and his army of dark and unholy Vampyres.
The next day, he was gone, and the shield and book had vanished with him. I suspect that he has fled across the Salve, for by all accounts his notes and hastily-scrawled maps lead across there, and I have no mind to follow him. He is clearly mad, having taken leave of his senses and the protection of our Lord, Saradomin. I pray that wherever he is he escapes harm of his body or soul.
Peverell is a gentleman, and dresses as such. His outfit is mainly blue and black, the colours of the Foryx Coven, and he essentially wears their standard servant outfit. His body is tall and stick-thin and his face is pale, wan and corpse-like like most vampyre juvinates.
In total contrast to his appearance, Peverell is mild-mannered, well-spoken and scholarly. He is, however, very clever and intelligent. Too clever and intelligent, perhaps, to stay out of trouble.
Peverell is an accomplished swordsman, fighting with dirk and targe, although his skills only apply to one who has need of weapons, and as a vampyre he rarely does. Besides this, he is an accomplished linguist and a historian of central history, from Asgarnia to Kandarin. He's also somewhat of an expert, by human standards, of the vampyres, having spent the last year and a half of his life as a human studying them from all written sources regarding the species. So little is known, however, that this doesn't constitute much of a knowledge base.