Faro Loup's page

Adelaide
Female Weasel
N Tiny Animal (Weasel)
Init: +6 Senses: Perception +5, Scent
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Defense
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AC: 16, Touch 14, Flat-footed 14 (+2 Dex, +2 natural, +2 size)
HP: 4
Fort: +2 Ref: +4 Will: +4
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Offense
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Speed: 20ft., climb 20ft.
Melee: bite +4 (1d3–4 plus attach)
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Statistics
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Str: 3 Dex: 15 Con: 10 Int: 6 Wis: 12 Cha: 5
Base Atk: +0 CMB: +0 CMD: 6 (10 vs. trip)
Feats: Weapon Finesse
Skills: Acrobatics +10, Climb +10, Escape Artist +3, Stealth +14; Racial Modifiers +4 Stealth, +8 Acrobatics
Languages: Common, Elvish, Undercommon
SQ: Low-light vision, scent

Now, it isn't an easy thing to scrounge out a living for oneself in the maddening intricacies of Old Korvosa; for the destitute and the desperate, it's a struggle to keep your head above water. It usually calls for alliances and dalliances that neither've you involved might want, and I myself have been involved in many an unsavory pursuit. Predators are common in Old Korvosa; dealers, cons, and pimps on the streets below, chokers above. They all seek to exploit the weak and the unaware, all looking to feed off of one thing or another. It's a difficult environment for a young half-elf - we're prone to a sensitive temperament, it seems to me. Maybe it's fortunate that I was (ostensibly, I guess) raised by my human parent, my father. He was a good man, a sailor, and I think he's what got me my problem with curiosity. As he told it to me, I was born of a union between him and a sea-elf that felt a capricious love for him, somewhere out west; perhaps near where old Thassilon used to be. I'm not too sure of it myself, my old man being usually keen on a bottle when he was feeling reminiscent, and my own lack of much schooling being not overly conducive to geography and suchlike. Regardless, it was that drinking that led my pa to his end. Nothing dramatic, but a pleasant night down by the shore on a suspect night can lead to tragedy. I never grieved too much - it took a few weeks for his body to be found, and I thought it was as good a death as might come to us Loups. Probably wasn't even awake when it happened.

At this point, I was a few years from manhood, around fourteen. As it happens, I was about to reach a most unfortuitous time in my life. I got picked by a man by name of Gaedren Lamm. Asked to run some jobs for him. It wasn't glamorous, just work. I was a runner most of the time. Running what, I don't know. Never cared to open the packages. Did pretty good. Got licked for a mistake, sometimes. Got worse than a licking, other times. I admit, I had a real distaste for it. I always preferred to keep myself on the straight and narrow, but hard times, you know? But I got some stuff out of it. Managed to learn myself my mother's language, fair passing, and Undercommon, too. Useful, sometimes, when you find yourself amongst the criminal element. And I had my tricks, too, even then. I was just thankful I was never one of those who got touched. But as I got along more, I got more of an eye into Lamm's business. It was putrid stuff. Kids way younger than me, and having to do things that I won't repeat, even on parchment. I wanted to get some of them out, but I couldn't; I was scared. Just a kid. I got one, though. A little girl, Maria. She was a sweet thing, I'd known her since before all that. Her mother was good to me and my pa. I remember that she grew flowers in little boxes. She died going too far on some drug or another. I didn't see Maria after that, and I didn't know until I came upon Lamm myself what exactly she had gotten herself into. She was one of those few who gets his favor, and that usually means the favor of others. I managed to talk her into leaving, but she was scared. Sometimes we find those who run off, put into places where he knows we'll see 'em, and before they get cleaned up. But I got her out, all right. Down to the docks. I had managed to work up enough to pay her passage, out to Taldor. The guys that ran the boat were friends of my dad, and I made sure they were bringing her to more friends out there. I had correspondence with one of them, so I was sure she'd be going somewhere good.

I myself got out of Lamm's game sooner'n'most, about four years after my start. He wasn't too happy, bastard, and I got a couple scars to show it. To be honest, he left me in a garbage heap. It was a low moment, I have to admit, and it got me angrier than any other time I can remember. I was never much in a scrap, being on the skinny side, but my tricks were more potent by then, and I gave back some of what I got; at least enough to find some solace in it. And I had an animal come to me, my Adelaide. She helped ease things. It was an odd meeting, too. Weasel's aren't common vermin in the city. Mostly rats and things, and the creepier stuff. But I guess that's not really relevant; I know she came to find me. It was a portentous meeting, on a moonless night, maybe a few days or weeks after I began finding myself able to do stuff beyond the usual things I had always done. Sometimes - and I swear on my good pa's grave that this is truth - I can walk through a door, and come out through a different one. I can't explain it, but if I will it hard enough, it happens.

Anyway, Adelaide. She was something else. We had - have - a bond. I can't rightly describe it. But we've been getting stronger, together. Smarter. I had been feeling something building for a while, something in my temple, or my chest, or maybe my lungs. I think it might be the last, 'cause I could feel it when I breathe. I had been able to do little tricks, spells I guess, since I was young. It was never something I was over interested in telling anyone. Could be dangerous talk, depending. But I was getting more powerful, and I was seeing things I hadn't previous. Things in the brickwork, and in the garbage, and the chimneys and chokers and carrion birds, and the people. The people, they kept showing me bits of themselves I hadn't ever seen before. They weren't meaning it, but it was there. And, well, it seemed to be really from my people, the people who've lived lives that have run parallel to mine. Outsiders, I can't understand 'em as well. It helps, with my new business ventures. I find things, things people don't want. Get to someone I know, and I know a few, who can get things fixed up. They do it, I sell it, and we split the profit. Seems fair enough to me, they having the expertise and me doing the legwork. But it's getting a little tight for me, that kind of work. I know I can do more, get better at my spells. I know I can do something really good.

Soon, I think it might be the right time for me to get those kids (or the new replacements, as it probably is) out of that sonuva's spidery grip. I can bite back, now, and more. I've got a lot of things up my sleeves, and none of 'em'll look too pretty to a conniving old man, well past the time he's earned here with us decent folk. Hells, I can make him do what I want. I can know his life, same as anyone's, and that gives me power over him.

His window was a rickety contraption, slightly lopsided in comparison to the rest of the decidely straight wall, with the frame having warped slightly, and the already subpar glass did not lend itself to resisting the advancement of time and the conditions of weathering and poor keeping that had decided the fate of the malformed window, that gazed out onto Conqueror's Bay and the gray skies that stretched, stern and laconic, a slight threat to be found across the frown lines that criss crossed it, the only indication of perhaps a future break in the wall of clouds. It was the kind of day that bespoke possibility, that inspired arrogance in the face of almost certain repercussion. It was the kind of day that one flings oneself from their bed in order to find out just what it is, exactly, that causes the gods to threaten so openly. Faro had spent the morning restless, flinging on mismatched clothes and cooking breakfast with wild abandon. He took only a moment to sit at his chair by the window and near to the stove to eat, before leaping back up, examining himself closely in the dingy mirror (he had acquired it from the dumpyard that supplied him with all of his finery) that stood propped against his wardrobe to ensure his decency, and out the door. His pace down the stairs was rapid, and only for a moment did he regret the noise he was creating for his downstairs neighbors. Faro was sure they'd reciprocate another time. More pressing was the appointment he had to make.

A few blocks from the mildly hazardous building that was his current home, was a shop that he had come to frequent. It marketed itself as a "Menagerie", but instead of containing a host of creatures, it was instead home to hosts of knick-knacks, books, home necesitties and all manner of grocer goods. It was a staple of the neighborhood, a place to find the things that you really don't have much have a hope of finding, but maybe by virtue of the effort you'll come across it. It being early morning, the shop had not yet opened, but the shutter to the upstairs apartment was open. Faro took this as an invitation.

"Moore!", he called up. The gnome poked his head out his window opened onto the street, one eyebrow cocked. A pipe tilted dangerously upwards, almost putting said eyebrow in harm's way. His name wasn't really Moore, but Faro hadn't been able to pronounce his real name upon their introduction and had never again bothered to try; Moore had accepted this with grace. "Moore! You up and at it yet? There's opportunity to be had!" The gnome, many years Faro's senior and a more long-suffering sort than most of his race, had known and tolerated the half-elf long enough to be unsurprised by this forwardness, based upon familiarity.

"What's burning, young'un? Y'know's'well 's I do that the shop don't open for another hour, yet."

"Well, as it happens, old'un, I might've heard of a nice old piece down by the Siegebreak; guy who's dumping it says it doesn't hold water any longer, so I guess the solution is to make sure it can't escape the stuff. Anyway, I figure if we pick it up, maybe you could seal it, we could get a nice bit for it, yeah?"

Moore's expression lies somewhere between exasperation and amusement, leaving his mouth in an interesting position of being both puckered slightly and upturned at the ends. "You've left me without a bit of essential knowledge here, boy. What exactly are we looking at nabbing?"

"One of those things the rich folk like to keep fish in. An aquarium? I don't understand it. Of all the good creatures to keep, you choose fish? Rich folks."

Faro shakes his head, eyes firmly shut, a sternly disapproving figure if not for his lack of presentability. "I just don't understand it."

Faro's an upbeat guy. He's kind, gregarious, and generous to an extent, but prefers to keep most of himself to himself. He doesn't overstate things, and prefers to understate if he can. He doesn't find over examination of the self to be much of a worthwhile pursuit, something that could be an interesting dichotomy with the path that has been chosen for him, had he any interest in thinking about it. He does have an interest in hearing about others, and is thoroughly entertained by stories and tales, regardless of whether or not they have any truth to them. He enjoys reading, and is surprisingly decent at it despite never having been properly learned. He also has a habit of picking up "new" clothes when he can, and can spend a surprising amount of time in front of a mirror. Faro finds it hard to stand still, and spends most of his time outside and roaming.

Faro is handsome, but not absurdly so. He walks the line between noticeable enough to turn maybe a head, if he fits that persons interest, and completely unexceptional to the majority who won't take the time to look much closer. His hair is a strawberry blond, straggly, and shoulder length, but most of the time it's up or under a hat or bandana, or both. His style of dress is haphazard (the only real staple, aside from headwear, being sturdy boots, and even these are sometimes swapped in favor of some sandals on a warmer day) and can result in some impressive clashes in color. Thankfully, his clothes are usually so faded by the sun that it's rather hard to tell. He does enjoy and takes care to bathe on a regular basis, so the dirt he collects is usually to a decent minimum. He stands at 5'9, and weighs in at 145lbs.