About Darcy Sparrow
Darcy couldn’t remember much about her mother. Her only keepsake was a tarnished cheap brass locket on a broken chain, with a small faded portrait of her. She did think she was beautiful though. With her dark hair, and smiling slanted eyes, Darcy could see herself in her features. And, though she thought her mother was beautiful, those same exotic features caused her some problems growing up. You see she looked different…
Memories of her father were much clearer. A large man with a booming laugh, and dark hair, eyes, and complexion, she clearly remembered bouncing on his knee, and hiding under the table as he did business in his curio shop, or at one of the crowded stalls in Riddleport. She also remembered that sometimes he stayed out with his friends, and when he returned…well it was best she hide until he felt better.
She was eight years old when he went out with the boy’s and never returned. Rumor had it that he’d been rolled for his money, and now lay in potter’s field. Others said he was shanghaied and even now rowed aboard some Cheliaxian vessel. She does know that if he could come home he would have.
A series of her father’s relatives cared for her from time to time. They would come and take her away in their gaily painted wagons, but she missed the city. And, though they pretended to love her, she looked different, and would find a way to escape and make her way back to the Streets of her home. Finally they quit coming.
She was 10-years old, and living on her own in the city. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was a free one. Until, the sickness came. She felt so weak, but knew she couldn’t get better without medicine…and she had no coin for that. Her normally nimble fingers, and quick feet failed her on that day…the sickness robbing her of her skill. Just as the fat merchant went to club her senseless the stranger appeared. He resembled her father in a similar Varisian way, but seemed to be a man of some skill and compassion.
“Stop”. “Don’t beat my niece”, he hollered staying the man’s club hand. “She can be troublesome, but she’s really a good girl”. “Here let me make recompense for what she took”. And with that he handed over the fat man a heavy purse. She started to run away blessing her good fortune, but only made it a few steps when the world darkened and began to spin.
Suddenly the door opened, and her unknown benefactor stepped into the room. Holding a candle he stepped into the room, and seated himself on her bed. He raised his hand to her and she shirked back, but his gentle voice assured her that if he was going to hurt her, he wouldn’t have brought her here. She then let him feel her forehead. She then noticed the other man in the room; the owner of the strange voice. She couldn’t help staring at him in awe…he had eyes like her mother…eyes like her own. “I think her fever is broken now”. “She should recover”. He then turned to Darcy.
“My name is Professor Petros Lorrimor”. “I am to understand that on the streets they call you Sparrow”. “Is that your real name”.
With a nod of gratitude the girl nodded. “Everyone calls me that, but my real name is Darcy”.
“Well Darcy, it seems that fate has twisted out paths together for a while”. “I have taken the liberty of doing you a great service”. “Someday in the future, I may have need of your repayment”. “Will you remember my name”.
The girl nodded silently, her eyes growing heavy again, still weak from her illness. “You may call this man Grandfather”. “He is not a rich man, and likes his privacy, but you can come to him for a few hours each day, and help him with chores, and run errands for him”. In return you may sleep in his loft, and he will provide you with food” Nothing more, nothing less”. “Now I must go”. “Remember my name”. And as she drifted off to sleep, she noticed his broad back leaving the room.
The next five years went well. She was seldom hungry, and slept warmly, but the man she simply called Grandfather was a strict taskmaster. He made her do things that didn’t make sense. Training with a stupid wooden stick like it was a sword or something, and helping him brew some weird potions. The fun parts were when they’d play cat and mouse. He was pretty spry and sneaky for an old guy.
Three weeks ago though things changed. He solemnly led her into his study, and pulled an old well used blade from a box on his desk. “This is called a wakizashi”. “It is a blade from far away…from a land that is the ancestral home of both me, and or your mother”. “I would make a gift of it to you”. “My little sparrow, it is time for you to leave the nest”. “I received dire word this morning that the man who saved your life, Professor Lorrimor, has passed away”. “He sent me this letter, and you are to attend his estate”. “He is calling in his favor”. “I don’t know why, but you must go to his home, and see what this is all about”.
“I don’t want to go away”. “I like it here with you”, she cried staring into his tear stained eyes.
“You must”, he simply said…so she did.
And after a long journey across Lake Encarthan by boat, and another week by coach she arrived at the city of Ravengro, to begin the next chapter of her life.
Darcy is a bit shy till she gets to know you, but can also act out if the occasion calls for it. She has a wicked wit, and sense of humor, and can be somewhat of a prankster. She has a weakness for children, and is curious to a fault. On the negative side, she is very callous and cold, and sometimes rushes into things without proper thought. And, she can find herself tempted by the bottle, and a pretty face...male or female.
Human (Varisian) Rogue (Sniper) 1
N Medium Humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +4
AC 16, touch 14, flat-footed 12 (+2 armor, +4 Dex)
hp 8 (1d8)
Fort +0 (+2 trait bonus vs poison or drugs (+4 to avoid effects of alcohol)), Ref +6, Will +0; +2 trait bonus vs. fear effects
Speed 30 ft.
Melee Shortsword +1 (1d6+1/19-20/x2)
Ranged Shortbow +4 (1d6/x3)
Special Attacks accuracy, sneak attack +1d6
Str 13, Dex 18, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 12
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 15
Feats Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot
Traits Iron Liver, Making Good on Promises
Skills Acrobatics +8, Bluff +5, Climb +5, Disable Device +6, Escape Artist +8, Knowledge (local) +6, Perception +4, Sense Motive +4, Sleight of Hand +10, Stealth +10, Survival +0 (+4 in urban and undergournd settings), Use Magic Device +5
Languages Common, Draconic, Tien, Varisian
SQ heart of the slums
Other Gear Leather armor, Shortbow, Shortsword, 120 GP
Accuracy (Ex) Halve all range increment penalties with a bow or crossbow.
Heart of the Slums +4 Survival in underground/urban environments. Save twice vs. disease, and take the better roll.
Iron Liver +2 to Fort saves vs. poison and drugs, or +4 vs. alcohol.
Making Good on Promises At some point in the past, Professor Lorrimor did you a favor under the condition that he would someday call on you to repay it. After he came to your aid, however, you never saw nor heard from him again, leaving you with a sense of unending anticipa
Point Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.
Precise Shot You don't get -4 to hit when shooting or throwing into melee.
Sneak Attack +1d6 +1d6 damage if you flank your target or your target is flat-footed.