Name: Folks call me Urchin. Nah, it ain’t my real name, and nah, I ain’t gonna tell ya my real name. You’d ‘ave ta get me shit-faced drunk before I tell ya that.
Species: Human, far as I know, with a tiny bit of elf thrown in on my Ma’s side.
Age: Uhh… I dunno. 16? 17, maybe? Ma never really kept track.
Height: 5’4 give or take… But I ain’t finished growin’ yet. Gimmie a couple o’ years, I’ll be 6 foot fer sure.
Weight: ‘Bout 110. Yeah, I need ta put some meat on my bones, I know… Got anythin’ ta eat?
Hair: Rusty Red an' always messy
Skin: Pale an’ freckled.
Occupation: Look out, errand boy, an’ dirty, rotten pick pocket ta boot.
Place of Birth: The good ol’ Arek Slums
Affiliation: The Carrion Crows
Home: The Shallows
What ya see. Short, scrawny, patched baggy clothes, few scrapes an’ scars here an’ there. Tattoo of a crow right over my left collarbone. Nothin’ special ta look at. Not really anythin’ noticeable ‘bout what I wear, ‘sept for this wooden pendant I keep on a string ‘round my neck. Ma’ says my old man gave it to ‘er before ‘e buggered off. Never came back, so after I was born, she gave it me… Yeah, I know necklaces are for girls, fuck it, it’s the only thing I got left what my Ma ever gave me, I’m gonna bloody wear it.
Skills and Abilities
Well, I’m bloody quick, I can tell ya that. No guard’s ever managed to throw me in the city jail yet. I can climb any buildin’ an’ scamper my way across the roofs, no trouble. An’, of course, I can snatch the shirt from off ya back before ya even know I’m there… Plus I make fer a surprisingly good scrapper in a bar brawl.
Not sure what ta tell ya, really. I’m pretty easy goin’ most of the time, but I got a mean temper an’ I really dunno when ta keep my mouth shut. Might come across as rude sometimes, ‘cos I say what I think an’ dun sugar-coat nuthin’, but trust me, it ain’t personal. It’s how I talk ta everyone. So long as ya ain’t a complete cunt (an’ assumin’ ya dun catch me with my hand in yer coin purse) I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Also, Ma' always said I were a dreamer an' I l let my mind wander too much, but I dun think... Oh look, a butterfly.
Biography & Lore
What? Really? Ya wanna know ‘bout… Uh, okay, but it ain’t an interestin’ story. After my old man knocked up my Ma’, he skipped down before she even found out I were in ‘er belly. My grandparents was the old fashioned type. Gave ‘er the whole shtick ‘bout havin’ a baby outta wedlock were disgraceful, she’d brought shame on the family, blah, blah, blah… Then they kicks ‘er out onta the streets without so much as a copper to ‘er name. So, pretty young girl with no place ta go, an’ no coin in ‘er pocket, ya know ‘ow this song goes. Ended up in the Arek Slums workin’ The Honey Pot… That’s a brothel incase ya ain’t heard of it.
So, that’s where I was born. Not the best place fer a kid ta grow up, but I guess it coulda been worse. Ma kept me outta trouble at least… That is, until some disease or other she got from one of ‘er clients caught up to ‘er. Died a few years back. An’, o’ course, a brothel ain’t really safe for a kid alone, so I buggered on outta there an’ headed off ta make my fortune in The Shallows.
I did okay fer myself after that. Picked a few pockets, snatched a few purses, slept mostly in abandoned houses an’ under bridges. I made my way… Then Zilvra showed up. To this day I dunno whether that were a blessin’ or a curse, but that elf lady took a shine ta me. Guess she figured I could be useful. So she inked me with ‘er mark, an’ now I’m one of the Carrion Crows. Most notorious guild of cut throat villains ta ever walk the streets of Alliria. Gets a bit intense sometimes, but what more can the likes of me really ask? It’s like ol’ Madame Jade always said, “When ya start at the bottom, the only way ya can go is up.”
The Elven Arrow:
The Caged Crow: