Feranhir Reldin

[Glyc 234]

Feranhir Reldin

Nicknames: Feranhir, The Agile Man, Agile.

Age: 132

Gender: Male

Race: Mali'Aheral

Status: Pocketing coins.

Description

Height: 6'8

Weight:200 lbs

Body Type: Ectomorph

Eyes: Deep blue

Hair: Platinum

Skin: Pale white

Markings/Tattoos: The brand of the Master Thieves Guild on his inner left Forearm.

Health: Excellent.

Personality: Feranhir is a generally charismatic, fun loving individual who often trusts individuals he hardly knows, at least until proven untrustworthy. Feranhir enjoys spending time with his Military comrades and often is found spending time with them within Malinor lands.

Inventory: A lock-picking set, Gold coin emblazoned with the MTG Logo (same as branded on his forearm), mask, sweets, light armor, Dirk within his left sleeve, Main-Gauche in his right boot and a Long Cavalry sword upon his hip.

Further Details:

Feranhir has a Silver tongue.

Life Style

Alignment*: Chaotic Neutral

Deity*: Nemiisae

Religion: Knowledge

Alliance/Nation/Home

Job/Class: Master Thieves Guild, Thief.

Title(s): The Agile Man

Profession(s): Resource Allocations *wink*

Special Skill(s): Lock-Picking, Swordsmanship.

Flaw(s):

Thought process:

Feranhir isn’t great at planning ahead, he may kill someone and have to run away only realizing at that time he has nowhere to go, no planned escape.

Strength:

Feranhir is generally tall and spindly with most of his muscle mass being in his legs, his arms are about average strength though no more.

Trusting:

Feranhir trusts people until they prove him otherwise, in his line of work this does not always work out well.

Weaponry

Fighting Style: Militaristic, Agility, Win at all costs, dirty fighting.

Preferred Weapon: Long cavalry sword in the right hand and elongated dirk in the left.

Favored Weapon: Stealth

Archery: Elven longbow

Biography

Parents: Dead and gone.

Siblings: None

Children: None

Extended Family: His Guild

Pet(s): Lestrou, his Red tailed kite, also his messenger bird.

History

Feranhir was raised by his mother in Laurelin years before the fall of Aegis. His father devoted most of his time to the college, staying there for extensive amounts of time, never writing or visiting. As Feranhir grew he was left without any fatherly figures, no one to look up to, no one to guide him. Needless to say he began getting into small troubles at first, an occasional broken window here, a missing mina or two there; but eventually it escalated into more. He began spending my time with a slightly older group of elven children, with this new family he began learning the ins and outs of petty theft, what to do and what not to. Times were good during these few years and he became more adventurous, testing his luck with a sword, and becoming more and more reckless. One day Feranhir decided he was going to make a bit of money, he was to rob his neighbor as they were out. He picked the lock to their house and stole a small necklace which he began wearing around his neck as a trophy of sorts. When word got out needless to say he was caught and his mother in an outrage sent him to his father at the college where he discovered a love for learning. Feranhir spent few years at the college in contrast to its age, studying everything, yet absorbing little information, spending all his time reading, second to none.

Feranhir was changed, a new elf. No longer did he steal, no longer did he cause any troubles. He was a model citizen. Feranhir went back home to his mother in Laurelin, eager to tell her of his newfound yet limited knowledge that he had gained and his achievements. Entering his house he found his mother, pale, smelling of rotten flesh and on the verge of death. Noticing these things he ran out of his house searching for someone who could save his ailing mother. Upon searching he came upon a poorly equipped man of healing who had barely any knowledge of healing though he managed to diagnose the issue. The words haunt him to this day, “it’s Grish, she doesn’t have long”. He spent the next weeks doing all he could to save his mother. In the end it wasn’t enough, she died not a month after his arrival from home. Feranhir spent the rest of his time in Aegis just living, no joy and no fun. When the undead came he stayed in Laurelin, receiving word later that his father was killed shortly after the undead returning. Eventually Asulon was found and Feranhir set off to the wilds. Emerging 40 years later In Malinor.

Feranhir’s first days in Malinor shaped his short career as a Sentinel. On his first day in Malinor a group of orcs tried taking the Sentinels barracks, watching closely he relayed information of the orcs whereabouts in the city to the Sentinels and soon after found himself joining them. As an Initiate in the Sentinels Feranhir found himself doing odd jobs for his superiors; cleaning the barracks, going out to cleanse Elandriel of spiders and other assorted monsters and generally arresting people when necessary and escorting people out if they were causing a disturbance. During this time Feranhir found himself wandering the wilds, eyeing each chest with increasing interest but leaving them alone. Days blew by in the guard. Things were generally peaceful in Malinor and he reveled in it. Taking increasingly longer and more and more trips to the wilds, coming back with more experience in hand to hand combat and always with a considerably heavier coin purse. After a year of this Feranhir was promoted to scout and found himself with more time to himself. In his free time he began thinking. He wasn’t a tactician but he could hone his skills. Feranhir in his spare time began listening to conversations, staying hidden, inconspicuous or joining in on the conversation himself. All in all information began his new stock and trade. Things went on like this for a while, Feranhir, daily perfecting his skills, trying to adjust his short fallings. Then the Sentinels disbanded and Feranhir was left without a job, now having to pay tax for his home while lacking the coin needed to do such. He travelled to cities searching for work, not requiring the skills needed to make a living these days he found himself frustrated and thinking. He paced for a few hours, back and forth, rhythmic yet not calming; always thinking of the dilemmas that plagued him in this new day when a thought popped into his head. “I’ll take what I need” he thought to himself and mentally he began a list. “I’m an ex-guard” he would chuckle to himself “who would suspect someone who protected the populace? I’ll never be suspected!” Content with these thoughts he set to work, arming himself with the tools he would need, a hood of course a sword for defense, maybe a bow just in case. Feranhir content with his plan set to work. He successfully did some petty theft, managing to pay his bills and his way. After each heist he became more arrogant, coming up with his self worth which he will use for the rest of his life. He eventually stopped his petty theft and settled into this new persona. Within months of his firing Feranhir was walking around Arethor with his hood up, the lower part of his face hidden under a light brown scarf when he noticed a small group of people eating and drinking at the tavern inside the gates, taking note of their bulging coin purses and somewhat sophisticated accents he walks over and sits in an adjacent booth in which he can keep tabs on them. After a while the two get up to which Feranhir gets up and “accidentally” bumps into them, robbing of a purse in the process then walks off calmly to a spot he considered safe along the walls of Arethor near the park, and opened the purse, which upon further inspection was filled with rocks and a single gold coin, a strange crest emblazoned onto it’s metallic surface, lifting it to the sun he inspected it further; until a fist from behind knocked him cold. When he awoke he noticed immediately the change in light alerting him to something wrong; swinging his head left and right two outlines came into sight, a man and a woman. After a small amount of dialogue the words that would shape many years to come were said “ Welcome to the Guild”.

He had no other contact from the guild for months, days would go by all the while looking for a sign when eventually while sitting in his Normandor house a rat scurried under the door, a tube attached to it’s back with a note within, the note reads

“Good tidings,

I hope this letter finds you well and in a timely manner. It comes time for us to meet again. Much has happened and the time of your judgement has come. Come as dressed and named as the one who would strike fear into the heart's of all rich men. Tread carefully, My friend.

Signed, Raven"

On the full moon Feranhir walked into the Guild Hall to find no one; nothing but a single chest laying alone in the middle of the room, a single torch burning behind it. He walked towards it, noticing that in front of it was a torsion wrench and three different picks to choose from; diamond, snake and ball picks, along with a note “There are two tumblers on this one, try as you may - Raven” Picking up the tools and putting away the note Feranhir selects the snake pick and torsion wrench then inserts them into the lock, after fumbling around for what seemed like ages he hears a click, and begins to wiggle around the pick more rambunctiously, being caught in the moment of triumph and with the help of his sheer brute force the pick snaps. Hearing footsteps Feranhir turns around to see Raven walking towards him .

“Let me show you” She said and then picked up the torsion wrench and fished the broken pick out of the lock, for the next few hours she detailed him how to pick the lock, what to feel for and what not to do, eventually demonstrating to him how to unlock it and guiding his hands to his first successful lockpick. Over the next year Feranhir spent most of his time locking and picking the doors in and around the Guild hall, until eventually after many a trial and error Feranhir finally at par with the Guilds standards for lockpicking. While also in training during this year and after many a job having been pulled he realized the importance of a distraction, ones that cause disorder tend to be the best sort of such and in turn Feranhir has adapted to the use of such whenever necessary to make a clean escape.

The years went by and eventually the Sentinels of Malinor reformed. Feranhir eventually rejoined them and was raised to the rank of Warden, then Sentinel of Normandor and finally to High Commander. All the while still being a member of the Master Thieves Guild. This arrangement didn't work out as well as he may have hoped and eventually after being assassinated once, having been the target of a scandal and after commanding a war; Feranhir found himself overwhelmed. A year and a half into his reign as High Commander Feranhir began disappearing for weeks on end to focus on his thievery, which lead to his demotion and resignation from the order that he spent the majority of his Asulonian life. With no responsibilities Feranhir began shrugging aside his name, preferring to be known as Agile among his brethren, and began committing more and more lucrative theft in the name of thrills and his guild.

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