Rolus Brime was born into a elven family that kept a druidic legacy, he didn’t care for it. So when he was still a teenager by elf standards he ran away from the forest with only a simple pack of food and his staff that his father balanced for him. Everytime he looked at the staff he would remember his father’s words, your life should be defined by this tool, it should be strong and sturdy. It should be on the single path and always be taken care off. That always made him sick, he would get rid of it, but since he never took to the druid calling it was the only defense he had.
After many weeks of traveling down one of the few roads that lead out of the forest(not Darkmoon but one near Falcon’s Hollow.), he traveled he got attacked by a small gang of bandits near a lumber settlement called Falcon’s Hollow. After seeing he had nothing of worth they let him go. But Rolus was intrigued by them, and followed them back to there camp. He saw them celebrating with drinks, music, and women. He saw how they all were dressed and how they all enjoyed themselves. He knew that was his life, so like a fool he just walked up to the one that let him go and begged him to join the crew. At first they thought it as a joke, and said he could join if he went through the trials of the Hounds of the Hollow (the gangs name.), which ended up being there slave for the next year or two.
They couldn’t believe it he stayed through all that, what they didn’t know there chores were easier then that of his father’s tasks so Rolus easily did all the work. Through out that time he helped them with the lay of the land and helped them forage for food on those slow nights. They slowly accepted him into the group and began training him in the arts of the bandit or local scoundrel. As his new training began he was a fast learning when it came to the sneaking, disabling, and pick pocketing. The only thing he had a hard time with talking his way out of trouble or conning the locals. Though he enjoyed showing off whenever he got the upper hand and just disregarding all the general rules he grew up with. But one thing kept bugging him; he still used that staff his father gave him. He always snickered at using it but it was the weapon he could use the best, he kept remembering what his father said the staff represented. He had an idea to design the staff be more like himself. He went to the weapon crafter in the hounds and had him break apart the staff into 3 pieces and had them connected by small chains, so that his staff would turn and move in wild patterns but always feel like it belongs to him just like his life with the Hounds. So with his new 3 section staff, he was a big help on many ambushes and scouting missions. After a huge attack on a caravan, the crew was ready to celebrate on there hull. The caravan they hit was full off strange ale and food supply. So they went to party at there base next to a stream that leads near the outskirts of Falcon’s Hollow. Well they sent Rolus out to scout around to make sure they weren’t followed, he checked all around and it took him most the night, as he returned he could still hear the screams coming from there camp, what he thought was ones of joy from the distance became ones off desperation when he got closer, some how the Consortium or other locals got to them, they were dragging them off. Rolus stayed put and followed them, when he got a chance he moved in close and talked with his friends there were still alive but trapped in the wagon. They told him they were being blamed for the illness that affecting the locals cause they found some weird liquor bottles near the stream and mistook there celebrating as a cultish dance. So they told him he needed to find the real ones who spread this sickness and clear the hound’s name. Not knowing where to start he went to the city of Falcon’s Hollow, to find out what he could. It took him a bit but he found out about a group that was being put together to find out what happened, he hijacked a invite and hopes the real canidate won't find out. So he can clear his gang of bandits.
(I’ll name the other members of my bandit group the Hounds of the Hollow, but was leaving for the DM to mess with.)
