A sly, no-nonsense individual who has a tendency to always look out for himself; as is expected of rogues, he is deft at recognizing his surroundings, adaptable, and street-smart. Though not the brightest candle in the house, he knows enough that being near the confrontation isn’t suitable to his livelihood.
Given his weaker stature, he knows he is handicapped in a melee fight and therefore favors his cross-bows over the traditional daggers. Being the sneaky bastard (literally) that he is, he is adept at hiding in shadows and prefers to strike at unwitting prey and disappear before they can catch him. His overall tenacity at not being caught aids him quite well in his greatest hobby – living.
Also of note is that he enjoys ambushing his targets. He feels that if he can get the upper hand on them, and pinpoint his strikes in his enemy’s vitals, he stands a pretty good chance of avoiding direct hand-to-hand combat. Thoroughly enjoying the looks of surprise on his marks faces (especially how bug-eyed they get when they realize they have a bolt in their neck), his scouting of his opposition is superb in order to make that first shot REALLY count.
Having grown up among ridicule and harassment all his life, he harnessed his survival instincts early on. His mother is a human whore who cursed the Elf blood in his veins, for her pregnancy ran her out of work. Needless to say, he doesn’t hate his blood as much as his mother (likely because he did anything to spite her…), and he realized early on that the advantages far out-weighed the disadvantages. Though being a mixed race was the source for his torment, he figured early on that there was little he could do about it and “embraced” it.
Being more delicate that the other boys (and even some of the girls) growing up, he found solace in the shadows. He was always quite light on his feet, and, out of a need for survival, discovered numerous ways to get around his slums to avoid conflicts. This involved rooftops, sewers, back alleys, and masquerading as merchant couriers.
The Thieves of his hometown took notice of his natural ability and decided to offer him a place among their ranks. As trusting as he is strong, however, he was not fully committed to their ways and worked out an agreement in which he was not obligated to their “organization”, but “apprenticed”. This deal was struck in accordance to his willingness and eagerness to learn, but he gained no access to their protected secrets and was commissioned as an outside assistant. This suited him quite well, as he preferred his solitude and own ways.
Learning quite a bit of practical knowledge during his first few years “associating” with the Thieves, from picking locks to physical anatomy to shadow manipulation, his skills improved dramatically. However, being the half-elf that he is, the Human side was bound to pull him away from his melancholy lifestyle. So, he did what any rational Elf would do – he joined a Mercenary outfit (Ok, maybe that was his Human half…). For 6 years, he found solace in the Mercenary lifestyle, honing his battle skills, enhancing his scouting and tracking skills, and perfecting his ambush techniques. He also learned how to cope with the company of others, though fighting helped that awkward transitional period. Still preferring to work alone, he couldn’t always turn down assistance, and, when faced with particularly unfavorable odds, was more than willing to seek it out.
Over the course of these joyful years, he picked up the crude Orcish language, having “befriended” a fellow outcast, an Orc by the name of Gaziim. He, Gaziim, and an older Dwarf by the name of Mhelor, carried out many missions together and they worked quite well with each other, especially since the Dwarf and Orc were more than happy to enter the fray. After Gaziim’s unfortunate end, however, he decided his life was not as safe in someone else’s hands, and decided to return to his “acquaintanceship” with the Thieves.
