Once a poor child, now a shadow that prawls the streets. Nobody knows his true name but they call him Faervyn Nightshade. He was born in crowded trade district to a poor couple who could not make their ends meet. Since young age he learned to the crafts of survival. Even though his parents were not wealthy, he loved them and they loved him. It was them against the world. But one day, he was left devastated when his parents left him stranded without a single goodbye. No love, no money, only tears, unanswered questions and a hope of better days. The world was against him from the beginning so he had to adapt and survive or surrender to the cold embrace of death itself. Such talented child with a poor status and life would not make it far, or would it? The child did not surrender and decided to fight. He quickly became one with the shadows, he learned how to move unseen, how to listen to gossips without being noticed, and how to take advantage of every situation possible.
His name quickly became famous amongst other thieves but feared amongst the crowds. He went from simple pickpockets to huge heists. Deadly nightshade became his signature, everywhere he struck he left a petal of this beautiful yet deadly flower.
After he was caught when his last heist went south and put in prison he tought his life was at it's end. After a successful escape Faervyn decided to leave the town and travel to find a place with better scores.
Weight: 80kg
Hair: Dark Brown
Eye Colour: Green
Outfit: Clothes designed for stealth and survival, hood and cloth covering face
The traveller has just arrived in a small town. As they look around, their gaze is met with run down houses and shops. They duck into one of the shacks, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the small room, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town?" She begins, then pauses to study their face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a chair, “Where do you come from? What do you hope to make of yourself?”
Faervyn approaches the table, not sitting down yet, scanning the room. Candle lights reflecting from his eyes as he looks down at the woman. "Where i come from?" he laughs and finally sits down. "A place that doesn't matter anymore." he mutters. "Name's Nightshade" smirk shows from underneath the mask. "I'm looking for a place where a man with a craft as terrific as mine can become a legend."
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