· · ─────── · ·
❝The streets own me, not whatever fear once gripped me. The licking flames mean nothing when the lanterns are lit.❞
└ · · ───────────── · · ┘
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · ─── · ɪ · ─── · ┐
i d e n t i t y
└ · ──────── · ┘
-ˋˏ Current Names ˎˊ-
✧ [Phanan] ✧
✧ [Phan] ✧
-ˋˏ Age - Looks ˎˊ-
✧ 24 ✧
-ˋˏ B i r t h d a t e ˎˊ-
✧ Total Age: 69✧
✧ 26th of Unndilar (May)✧
-ˋˏ G e n d e r ˎˊ-
✧ Male ✧
-ˋˏ P r o n o u n s ˎˊ-
✧ He/Him/They ✧
-ˋˏ s e x u a l i t y ˎˊ-
✧Straight✧
-ˋˏ s p e c i e s ˎˊ-
✧Dark Elf (Drow)✧
-ˋˏ l a n g u a g e s ˎˊ-
✧Elven✧
✧Thieves’ Cant✧
✧Common✧
-ˋˏ d o m i n a n t · h a n d ˎˊ-
✧Right Hand✧
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · · ───── · ☾ · ───── · · ┐
· · ─────── · ·
❝If the rats I knew taught me anything, it’s that no scrap should go to waste.❞
└ · · ───────────── · · ┘
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · ─── · ɪɪ · ─── · ┐
p e r s o n a l i t y
└ · ──── · ──── · ┘
-ˋˏ t r a i t s ˎˊ-
✧ Personality Traits ✧
[I always have a plan for what to do when things go wrong. I would rather make a new friend than a new enemy.]
✧ Ideals ✧
[People. I’m loyal to my friends, not to any ideals, and everyone else can take a trip down the Styx for all I care. (Neutral)]
✧Bonds✧
[Someone I loved died because of a mistake I made. That will never happen again.]
✧Flaw✧
[When I see something valuable, I can’t think about anything but how to steal it.]
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · · ───── · ☾ · ───── · · ┐
· · ─────── · ·
❝It’s hard not to admire the small victories.❞
└ · · ───────────── · · ┘
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · ─── · ɪɪɪ · ─── · ┐
p r e f e r e n c e s
└ · ───────── · ┘
-ˋˏ l i k e s ˎˊ-
✧ Strawberries✧
[He had a friend once that liked them quite a bit, though she’s long gone now. Just a fond memory.]
✧Flute✧
[He started playing at a young age, and has gradually gotten better over the years.]
✧ Night time ✧
[With as drab as the sun can be, the night is if anything a nice reprieve.]
✧ Togetherness ✧
[It’s hard to stay apart from people for too long, he did that once. Wouldn’t want the silence creeping in again.]
✧A Good Show✧
[Any shows or performances deserve a good round of applause.]
-ˋˏ d i s l i k e s ˎˊ-
✧Getting Drunk✧
[A cup of ale or some mead is fine, but overdoing it only leads to mistakes.]
✧The Sun✧
[Sunlight sensitivity is a curse and a half, no reason to stare at the thing that burns. The cover of night is for more than stealth.]
✧Weakness':✧
[Seeing burning buildings, bodies... it all just sparks the same memories. The one he couldn’t save, buried under another.]
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · · ───── · ☾ · ───── · · ┐
· · ─────── · ·
❝Fight like a bee, except for one thing. Sting harder.❞
└ · · ───────────── · · ┘
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · ─── · ᴠɪ · ─── · ┐
c o m b a t
└ · ───────── · ┘
-ˋˏ f i g h t i n g · s t y l e ˎˊ-
✧ ✧
[Up Close, Sneaky, Rogue]
-ˋˏ w e a p o n s ˎˊ-
✧Daggers 1-6✧
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · · ───── · ✧ · ───── · · ┐
· · ─────── · ·
❝They’re long gone, sometimes I miss them. It’s hard to remember.❞
└ · · ───────────── · · ┘
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · ─── · ᴠɪɪɪ · ─── · ┐
r e l a t i o n s h i p s
└ · ──── · · ──── · ┘
-ˋˏ m o t h e r ˎˊ-
✧ Belra Despath || Status: Deceased ✧
[His mother was sweet, caring, but couldn’t save herself when the fire hit.]
-ˋˏ f a t h e r ˎˊ-
✧ Danrel Despath || Status: Deceased(?) ✧
[The last family he saw when the village started to burn, who trained him in survival from a young age. He handed his son a dagger, told him to run, never to stop. He’s assumed dead, as the search continues.]
-ˋˏ f r i e n d s ˎˊ-
✧ Arwen || 65 | Status: Assumed Dead ✧
[After the night when the village burned down, he assumes her dead. They were good friends, old friends, but still good friends. He barely remembers the rest, but she shines in his mind. The friend he lost in that fire, who he couldn’t save. The one he failed.]
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · · ───── · ☾ · ───── · · ┐
· · ─────── · ·
❝Whispering flames, clattering of blades, and all I could do was watch.❞
└ · · ───────────── · · ┘
· · ─────────────────── · ·
┌ · ─── · ɪx · ─── · ┐
b a c k s t o r y
└ · ──── · ──── · ┘
His home is Arcas, or at least it once was. He was out for a casual stroll, just picking some strawberries and other berries for his childhood friends. He wasn’t old enough to get a knife yet, so it was a messy journey every time, but at least it was a shadowy path. Anything but the open berry fields, at least the berries grew somewhat in the shade.
There was a burning from inside the village, barely visible, which he thought was a bonfire or something of the sort. They happened from time to time, nothing out of the ordinary. At least for a while, then the smoke turned black. He decided it was time to go back, and fast.
He moved as fast as his little legs would carry him, sprinting into town and seeing the mostly crumpled buildings, he drop the basket and ran to his house. The roof had collapsed, and his father was moving rubble, desperately trying to get inside. Noticing his son, he took the dagger from his boot and said, “Son. We raised you to be someone, go make something of yourself. Don’t stop until you reach a town, protect yourself.”
Phan desperately looked into the house, seeing a body under the planks deep inside, and shuddering away from the possibilities. He took the knife, hugging his father one last time, before sprinting to the house of his friend. Narrowly avoiding an encounter with someone else, he managed to make it there mostly unscathed.
Upon reaching it, he dug inside, and under what looked like the collapsed remains of the burning house he saw the bodies there, and remembering his fathers’ final words, took off in a direction. Any direction.
Eventually he hit a town, and began a new life. Taking to the street rats, he slowly began to understand the city.
The city he first got to was the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska, or as the street rats and general populace would know it as, Haense. A large place, mostly human and primarily highlander, it was difficult moving between place to place, though with the turmoil happening within the city and the empire’s fall, it made it a tad bit easier to rob and steal what was needed to survive. After many years of this, running amok in the streets and barely surviving a run in with a Lur wolf on a nightly stroll through the woods, life was getting grating. It was no longer just stealing bread, wine, cheeses. It was no longer barely surviving, his crew was thriving more than they should be, it had gotten too easy. There was no thrill or joy in taking what would be small amounts and getting away with it. No joy in having to cloak himself to go to the market.
So he decided he needed a change, taking up his things and saying goodbye to the rats, he headed off to stow away on a ship, just an escape from the past he’s had.
· · ─────────────────── · ·
