Macman253

Name: Keldos "Sparrow" Fadeleaf Race: Half-Elf Age: Unknown, believed to be around thirty years of age. Class: Rogue/Thief-Acrobat/Master Thrower Alignment: Chaotic Good Deity: Tymora Place of Origin: Waterdeep Appearance: Stands at around 5' 6" of slender build, He normally has dark brown hair but he keeps it shaved short to prevent snagging or gripping. He has several small scars but his most notable feature is a tattoo on his forearm of a Sparrow flying over a bandit's mask with a dagger piercing the center. He has bright green eyes. Armor/Clothing: He wears a leather jerkin with the sleeves removed, on each forearm is a pair of bracers and fingerless gloves on each hand. He wears thin leather pants and tall boots. Around his neck is a locket with a painted picture of a brown haired elven woman holding a small brown haired boy. Slung across his torso is a Satchel Of Holding that carries his array of tools and unmentionables. He possess a dark brown bandana and matching hood and cape to protect his identity when committing illicit acts. Weapon: A variety of throwing weapons, ranging from smoke bombs to throwing stars and knives. He wields an enchanted Quarterstaff that can retract either side or extend at the push of a special carving, normally carried in a special sheath on his leg and retracted to a Baton like state. On his left wrist is a dagger in a special sheath. He also possess's a Rod Of Ropes to enable him to grapple to windows, create zip lines or swing across gaps as needed. Personality: Sparrow is often described as shiftless and a bit of a layabout. He likes to drink and carouse but he also relishes in standing up to oppressive authority and racial intolerance. Quick to defend the downtrodden and help the poor, most often by stealing food or gold and giving it to those who need it more. He is a devotee of Tymora but not much for devout behavior and is often wary of religious people. He enjoys good conversation and equally good company but finds dutiful people to be boring and unappealing as friends. Sparrow is the kind of elf to challenge a half-orc to an arm wrestling contest or play hide and seek with children rather then discuss things like politics or philosophy. He is quick to befriend but his loyalty is difficult to obtain, once acquired it is for life, he will be the first to draw a blade for you but the first to speak up if he fears his friend walks a dark path. Sparrow dislikes his birth name since he was named after his father, he prefers the nickname his mother gave him and often addresses himself as such and those who do know his real name know that he finds embarassment when it is used to address him. But he often replies with a witty comeback or a quick remark. Forever a jester and prankster he can be a real joy or an annoying menace, depending on whom is on the receiving end of his harmless pranks. Sparrow is rather boyish in nature but can become quite serious when the need arises, he often uses humor to lighten a mood or when he is uncomfortable. His more altruistic behavior is rather different then most would think of him, he steals from those who have much or take much and gives to those who take little or have little but he does not seek their approval or adoration. He is known to leave food on the doorstep for a hungry family or leave a sack of gold coins in a drawer for the intended to find. He does what he does out of compassion and the desire to atone for his more selfish deeds. History: Keldos Fadeleaf was born in Waterdeep, his father was once a renowned soldier, his mother a beautiful elven Bard. But his father took to drink and dishonorable work, eventually being killed in a bar brawl when he was young. His mother had left him with some friends of hers after his fathers death, promising to return when she found a more suitable place for them to live but she never returned. As time went on he began to act out, was brought to his foster parents home several times by the city watch. When his foster parents passed he was still very young and he had no one to care for him. Sparrow quickly fell in with a gang of other orphans like himself and they took to living in the cities sewers, picking pockets in the market and running scams all while dodging various criminal guilds and the city watch. When he became too tall for them he was removed from the gang, there he met the legendary thief, Three-Fingered Jack, a master pickpocket and safecracker. It was through him Sparrow was introduced to the Thieves Guild, specifically the Shadow Thieves. Sparrow had found his calling, his small and lithe build made him a fantastic Second Story Man, also known as a Cat Burglar. Often going in through the upper windows of a building via the roof or a neighboring house. Sparrow quickly rose in the ranks, but as the Lords Of Waterdeep pressed the Shadow Thieves many of those he cared for were either forcefully retired, imprisoned or killed. After several years with the Shadow Thieves he went independent for a time. In his anger at the loss of his extended and larcenous family he sought out another, eventually coming across a small group of like-minded thieves. There he met Darrick Tavros, Darrick was quite charming and quickly became a father figure to the young Keldos. It was with the Black Barons that Sparrow committed the sins he now devotes his life to repaying. The Black Barons stole indiscriminately, from robber barons to honest merchants and even those who had little. Sparrow stuck with Darrick and the Barons but when Darrick asked Sparrow to assassinate a magistrate that sought Darrick for the assault of a witness to one of his crimes Sparrow departed in disgust. Leaving the Black Barons forever. He has been independent since, stealing from the rich and other criminals and giving to the poor to atone for his crimes.

Wind enjoyed one last piece of the Elk leg before they departed on their long trek to Redcliffe. As they trodded along he noticed his companions sorrow and his efforts to find a solution in the bottom of a bottle. Wind sighed, he had seen it before. "Yes my metal-plated friend, no solution to whatever problem you may be having can be found in that." He said with a slight smirk but a worried look as he rode along Abraham's side. "Who am I to deter a man from a friendly drink?" He added with a cheeky smile, "But I would rather see a friend enjoy that drink rather then drink to drown his sorrows." He said as he patted the Templar on the shoulder with a loud metallic clank, then retracted his hand and shook it to stem the flow of pain through his fingers.

Wind wrapped his bow around his torso and drew his Crow Blades with a flourish. "I'll go give him a hand with his gear." Wind said as he walked backwards towards the edge of the cliff, he smirked and gave the Templar holding the vine a cocky wink as he dropped off the edge of the cliff and sank his blades into the earth to stop his descent. He pulled them free as he twisted, dropping a few meters before sinking one blade into the earth as he fell to lessen his fall, the metal blade sang as it carved a long gash into the dirt. He landed feet first with a hard thud and a shower of dirt and rock. He shook himself clean and slid the knives back into their sheaths and let out a exhale of excitement. "That was quite entertaining." Wind said with a wide smile, "Let's get you and your things packed." He added, nodding towards the Avvar's encampment.

Wind smiled and nodded to the Avvar, he turned to Abraham, "Do you have any rope Master Templar?" He asked with a polite smile as he looped his shortbow over his torso.

The Elf turned on his heel and ran, using his keen eye he tracked the footsteps of the Avvar. The path winded through the forest, moving around trees and under branches, all of which the Dalish easily and silently moved around. His mind drifted back to his day's with his people, moving through the forest unseen by most. He let his thoughts of his old home slip away as he saw the tracks begin to get lighter. The ground was hardening, the footprints were fading from obvious view but luckily Avvar are not known for their grace of foot, there was plenty of broken twigs and disturbed flora even an unseasoned hunter could have tracked him. Wind slowed down to a walk and readied his bow, laying an arrow across the string and pinching another to the stave as he pushed further on. The mist was fairly thick, but not thick enough to hide the cliff face from where the Avvar's tracks abruptly ended. Wind stood at the top, noticing the Avvar down below and the disturbed cliffside where he had tumbled over. Wind laughed quietly to himself at the Avvar's blunder. "Master Volhammer! It appears you found your camp!" He yelled down to the Avvar as he stood at the edge of the cliff, "May we throw you a rope so you can return to ours?" He asked with a wide smile.

Gimme a bit

Are we waiting for my post?

I look forward to it lol

Sounds good.

So whats the plan then? Put this on hold until he clears up?

Wind looked up from his work at his companions conversations. He meant to reply when he heard the faint call from the Avvar, his ears perked slightly as he stood, he grabbed his bow and strung it before slinging his quiver of arrows over his shoulder and strapping it down. He smirked and nodded. "Gladly." He said then looked down, the tracks the Avvar left behind were still fresh enough to be followed. "He's this way." He said, pointing off into the misty forest. He gestured to the large footprints dug into the earth. "Ready when you are." He added as he looked at his companions.

Wind shrugged at his companions objections to his remarks about the Avvar, Wind had no doubt he was a decent man, but he figured it was wiser to doubt even the most obvious. The elf smirked at the Templar's displaced mind. "I have had the honor of many titles my armor plated friend." He chuckled, "Master Assassin, Blade-For-Hire and my personal favorite... Pirate." He said with a wink and a chuckle. Wind cut a piece of the venison away for himself and applied the glaze. He looked up to Celeste. "I have had the rare pleasure of meeting Templars... only on one occasion was it ever amicable." He said solemnly as he chewed on the venison and looked into the fire, "I have no feud with the Chantry. Although more then once they have had reason to dislike me." Said the Elf before he took a bite from his venison and chewed on it hungrily. He paused to collect his thoughts, "Besides our esteemed Abraham have not met a Templar I would have an ale with and share old stories." He said before gesturing to Celeste. "But Gabriel... in the short time I knew him.. I would have much enjoyed his continued company. If you wish to have a proper burial for him I will gladly give you my share of the funds to make it possible."

Wind stood and walked over to Lucky, keeping one eye on the cooking meat while they spoke. "If you cut pieces off you can eat... Slice off a piece as it cooks, let's the rest of it cook." He said with a smile, "Just apply the glaze and herb after you remove a piece." He said, gesturing to the bottle of honey glaze and the clump of mixed dried herbs on a rock near the fire. He dug through his saddlebags and removed a small bone flute, a eagles feather was tied to the end with a leather strip. He smiled, spun it around in his fingers with a flourish and walked back over to the log, he put it to his lips and blew into it, the flute gave a sharp chirp. He drew a small blade from the sheath hidden in his left bracer and stuck the tip into one of the holes to widen it as he twisted it about. "You trust this Avvar?" He asked his companions, giving them a curious look. "Anyone can provide some game, make a few boasts and cheerful laughs... doesn't mean they are trustworthy." He added as he idly carved bits of the unfinished bone flute away with his small knife.

Wind smiled and shrugged at Abraham's comment, "I come by it naturally my armor plated friend." He replied, "For a short while I was tasked with assassinating the Lady Deveroux, she had a penchant for food, always hiring new kitchen slaves." He added, "She went through them quickly so it was an easy way in to her estate." Said the Elf as he brandished his Crow-Blade, "I was able to slip into her bedroom and fulfill my contract." Wind turned over the venison leg, he cut a piece away with his knife and offered it to Abraham. "While I was there, I was able to pick up a few recipes on roasting." He said with a smile, "The trick is the glaze... holds the spices close to the meat and it should be applied liberally and often." Wind chuckled lightly and looked to the Avvar. "Years ago I met a Grey Warden once... good fighters them." Said Wind as he gestured at Volhammer with his knife.

Wind nodded at the Avvar's request and set it aside, he cut the best flanks free and set about detaching one of the legs. When he pulled it free he cut the leg off at the knee and set it aside, As his companions and the Avvar spoke he set about building a spit. Wind walked to the nearby tree and clapped his hands together as he prepped himself for a lengthy climb. The elf smiled and jumped up, gripping a low branch and pulling himself up. He tested the next with his foot as he gripped one above him and proceeded to climb the tree rather deftly. When he got near the top he started hacking away at the branches. It took a few minutes but he came away with all the things he would need. He climbed down and dropped to the ground with a loud *THUD* and brushed himself off. "That was fun." He said with a smile and continued about his work. He quickly built the spit with a practiced precision, remembering learning this in the little time he lived among his people. His mind drifted back to those moments as his hands worked, tying the sticks together, setting the meat and stoking the still hot coals from the evening fire. He sat next to the fire, turning the leg of venison. It started to cook so he walked over to his saddlebags and began to rummage around, pulling out small glass bottles of spices, sniffing them occasionally to check the contents. When he had selected the right herbs and spices he returned and began spreading the glaze with a brush and sprinkling the salt, pepper and dried olive leaves to not only preserve the meat for longer periods but also enhance the flavor. He whistled happily, seeming to be content in his work and thoughts them pay his companions all that much attention, but he kept a blade close just in case the Avvar turned out to have more nefarious plans. When the Templar invited the Avvar to travel, Wind's pointed ears perked. He did not think that it was wise but, he was in no real place to challenge the Avvar, he brought them food and so far had not acted in a hostile manner so he remained silent but watched intently, idly turning the leg over so the heat of the coals could do their work.

Wind smirked at the remark as he sat down, he flipped the blade around in his fingers and turned the deer onto it's back. He sank the blade into the crotch of the deer and gave it a hard jerk towards it's ribs, cutting through the hide and muscle with ease. He flopped the deer over onto it's side and let the guts spill out. After a few moments he cut them free and slid his crow-blade into the sheath on his leg and took up the deer across his shoulders and walking to a nearby tree. The elf tossed the deer down, rummaged in his pack for some rope, tied up the deer's legs and ran it over a strong branch to lift the deer, head down for skinning and butchering. "Thank you Abraham but I am quite familiar with cutting and skinning a deer." He said with a smile as he ran his blade around the nape of the neck to remove the head, since he was not taking any trophies he did not care. After a few minutes he had skinned the deer, leaving only the legs intact. He laid the hide out across the log, bloody side up before going back to the deer and cutting away flanks of meat, setting them in two separate piles, to be cooked and to be cured for rations later. "Ir abelas, ma vhenan." He spoke in Dalish as he cut away a large strip of belly-meat and laid it out for the Avvar, "Take it, the hunter gets the most delicious meat to honor his skill." He said with a smile, his forearms covered in deer blood but he had cut away the finest meat, leaving only the things that could not or need not be used.

Wind was in the process of picking up his bow when the burly Avvar wandered into the camp, the Elf leaned on the shaft as the Templar spoke to their guest. He smirked lightly and nodded in greeting. "Just call me Wind." He said as he introduced himself, "A fine Buck... lay it out." He said, gesturing to the nearby log and drawing one of his crow blades. "I'll butcher it." He added with a calm smile, he figured it would be best to entertain the newcomer. He had met Avvar before and found them to be very interesting people.

Wind shot up like a lightning bolt when he heard the steel blades sing. He had a Crow blade in one hand and the empty bottle of Orlesian wine in the other, up and ready to bash in someones head. "Who's there!" He growled, his eyes still low from sleep. He shook his head and saw his companions and smiled lightly, he looked at the bottle and let it drop as he realized he was close to tossing it at one of the once-blurry shapes in his hungover stupor. Just as he came to that realization his head began to throb painfully. He clutched it and laid back on the log with a depressed sigh. "I am never drinking Orlesian wine again." He said as he looked up at the morning sky. When the talk of breakfast came he sat up. "I can go get us a pair of rabbits if you wish." He replied to the Templar, "I could do with the walk..." Added the Elf.

Wind finished his work just as the Templar toppled over, he sat up in alarm but when he noticed that he had fallen asleep from what he assumed was exhaustion he let out a sigh of relief. He slid the crow-blades back to their proper sheathes and smiled, his head swam with the fine Orlesian wine. He continued to drink, glancing at Celeste as she laid down, noting the large set of robes on her small-ish frame. Wind chuckled lightly and looked into the flames of the flickering fire. After a few hours of drinking he heard a voice drift into his ear, "Gael." Said the voice, he had not heard his name in over a decade. The elf instinctively looked at where he thought the voice came from. It was a soft feminine voice, he clutched an ear and took a heavy swig. "There was nothing you could do for her." He said to himself reassuringly, he glanced at his companions, making sure neither of them heard him. After a few minutes of silence he sat up on the log and laid down it lengthwise. When the moon was up high he slowly but surely fell asleep.

Wind kicked Lucky to a gallop and followed his companions. The assassin was quiet throughout their trip. Lost in thought about the fight in Orzammar. He remembered the job the elderly dwarf had mentioned, a merchant that had ties to the Cartel was his target. He sighed and pushed it away. He turned his attention to whistling a Dalish travel tune, distracting his mind from dark thoughts. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When they pitched camp, Wind's spirits had risen. He removed Lucky's saddle and let her graze after wiping her down from the long ride. The elf dug through his saddlebags and removed a bottle of Orlesian Red he had tucked away for a rainy day and a small whetstone. The elf sat on a log by the fire that Celeste started and popped the cork from the bottle with a soft *thunk*. He took a sip of the fine wine from the bottle and wiped his lips, sticking the bottle in the dirt beside him. He drew his Crow Blades and stuck one into the log, then spit on the stone and began to slide it over the long daggers edge as he idly whistled an endless tune. After a while he was happy with the shining edge he put on the dagger and started work on the second. Taking the odd drink of the wine every few minutes as he did.

Wind dropped to the earth and shifted slightly as the Templar stuck him on the shoulder. The Dalish shook his shoulder and attempted to hide the pain running through his back. When they spoke of handling their former companions goods and shrugged. "I have no ties to any of it or them." He spoke, realize afterwards how harsh he sounded, he was saddened by the truth of those words as he reflected back on his life and found it to be an inevitable truth of his life. Was it the Crow's that made him so distant from people? He thought as they walked outside. Once he was hit by the light and fresh air he breathed a lot better. He was never fond of Orzammar, not because of the dwarves but because of the crushing isolation of it. When they approached the stables he found his Appaloosa mare. He had never given the mare a name and thought now was a good moment. "I shall call you Lucky." He said, patting her nose as he fixed his saddle to her back. "Because you and me are both Lucky... I was lucky enough not to die.. and you were lucky enough to be owned by me," he said cheekily, the horse replied with a snort and a whinney. He chuckled and stepped up into the saddle, guiding her out of the stables. "I am ready to depart my friends!" He said, ignoring the thumping pain still clinging to the back of his head.

Wind woke not long after they departed Orzammar, he clutched the back of his head and expected pain but instead felt nothing. He looked around, noticing he was being packed over the Templar's shoulder like a sack of grain. Wind knocked on his armor with his knuckles to alert him. "As much as I might have looked it... I am not a dead yet." he quipped with a smirk. "If you could let me down it would be fantastic." he added, feeling embarassed about his situation.

Wind was quick with his hand, he flicked a throwing knife into one dwarfs snout that dropped him like a stone, in a heartbeat his Crow Blades were out and ready, just in time to parry a overhead strike from another dwarf seeking to avenge his fallen comrade. Wind stepped around the charging dwarf and ran him through with the pair of long daggers then ripped them free. He inversed his grip on them and caught an axe that was swinging for his neck in the cross of his blades. He pushed the elderly dwarf back with a kick held his daggers in a defensive posture. "It wasn't personal." He said in a rather apologetic tone. "If I knew who ordered his death, I would give it to you." He added, the elderly duster heaved up his axe. "It doesn't matter now." Replied the dwarf and charged, Wind spun around and flicked his crow blade into the dwarfs heart as he charged, his axe held over his head. Wind pulled the blade free in time to get whacked over the back of the head with one dwarfs cudgel, sending him dazed and staggering to the floor. Then everything went black for him.

Wind lurched forward as Celeste ran into him, he had not been expecting that but it certainly put him ahead of his companions. The spunky assassin smiled awkwardly and ran his hand through his his hair as he thought of a way to talk himself out of this. He noticed the dwarves weren't too scared of a Templar and a Mage so he figured it wouldn't do much, but he felt like it was worth giving it a shot. "You see... the thing about your brother is he was a bad chap.. someone paid dearly to have him killed. It was not me, I was merely the instrument, you want the one who ordered the contract." He said, trying to deflect their anger towards someone he had no knowledge of, most of the Assassins used by the Crows knew nothing of the ultimate employer, merely that someone wanted the individual dead. The elderly dwarf stood his ground, a few of his companions looked shaky though, a mage AND a templar plus a trained Crow Assassin, the odds quickly changed and more then a handful looked uneasy but they remained where they were. The older dwarf stroked his beard, "Would ye' know who this person might be?" He asked the Elf curiously. Wind smiled wide, "Of course!" He said in an agreeable tone. The older dwarf raised an eyebrow in confusion, impatiently waiting for Wind to tell him. The elf began to sweat, "His brother..." lied the elf. The Elderly Dwarf growled in anger, "I didn't want fer' his death!" He barked, Wind held up his hand and tried to save his lie. "It was his other brother.." He replied, the dwarf pointed at him with a thick finger. "He ain't go no other brother but me, rush 'im lads!" Said the duster, his boys charged at the three, weapons raised and howling like a pack of wolves.

Wind chugged down the last of his bitter and stuffed a roll into his pocket as he stood. He fished out some coin, laid it next to his plate and took up his bow and quiver to follow his mates. "Shame to leave a meal such as that half eaten." He said as he walked out with the Templar and Celeste while patting his stomach. He had a playful smile on his face but that soon vanished as he recognized one of the large group of dwarves waiting for them. "Oh no..." He muttered, the eldest dwarf bore a Casteless tattoo on his cheek, Wind looked around to see the streets were abandoned and the city watch had disappeared. Nearly all of the dwarves waiting for them also had the Casteless tattoo and were armed. The elder dwarf stepped forward and pointed at Wind with the axe in his hand. "You, murderin' elf! You killed my brother!" He yelled loudly, spitting as he spoke in a red hot rage. "What 'ave you te' say fer' ye'self before we gut ye' knife ear!" He growled, the dwarves began to draw their weapons and fan out around them.