Halfing Bard, going to be rogue.
His father left him when he was old enough to surrport him in soberdan, and left him with a blade crafted at an angle, he doesn't know it's a Kukri, he has a mandolin, but no pick but still plays it. He wants to find his dad, and it can sort-of end seeing the emblem which is the same as his kukri has, on someone/thing. He also whitles.
Endrin and His background
Endrin
Lounging against a wall, Endrin watched the people going by, most of them paying no heed to the small halfling figure. He smiled, his hand wandering towards his mandolin, they would pay attention to him this evening, once he picked up his tune in one of the soberdanian inns. Fingering the instrument, he dreamt of enrapturing his audience like the great musician Tolde Heremon. He sighed as he realized that he was yet a long way from attaining true musical mastery, especially as he had found himself beginning to be slightly attracted to the more shadowy businesses of the city. Hanging around the marketplace, he had had more than one occasion to see a pickpocket at work, it seemed like an easy way to get some money, more dangerous but less tedious than trying to make a living as street musician.
Thievery ... dangerous but lucrative. He might even have to use his strange knife for more than just peeling apples. Taking it out of the sheath, he slid his thumb across the angled blade, wondering again why one would want to forge such a weapon. Turning the hilt towards himself, he examined again the carving at the end of it, though the image had imbedded itself so deep in his mind that he did not need to look at it to remember it. He was still clueless what it represented, regretting that he had yet not seen it when his father had trust it into his hands. Well, he had had other questions on his mind at that moment, like, why did his dad leave him like this ... He still didn't understand it, and his father had offered no explanation but 'they have found me'.
Putting the blade back, he came back to reality. Checking the stand of the sun, he found that it was late enough to start his display at the nearest inn, hoping that he would get enough coins to buy himself a hot meal as his stomach felt empty. Someday, he told himself, yes, someday, he would leave this city and find his dad. Little did he know that he'd leave the city much earlier than he had expected.
That evening, after he ended playing, a slender woman approached him. At first, he thought that she had fallen under his charms, some women had a fondness for halfling lovers, but her eyes told him differently. Grasping his hand, she told him how much she had loved his playing, leaving a scrap of paper in his palm. Unfolding it later in a corner, he found that the same emblem as on his blade had been drawn on it and under it the words 'hide your blade, leave the city and look out for the banshee'. At first, he thought it a joke, but that night, he could find no sleep and left the city at first light, slightly worried but also quite excited and very intrigued.
Lounging against a wall, Endrin watched the people going by, most of them paying no heed to the small halfling figure. He smiled, his hand wandering towards his mandolin, they would pay attention to him this evening, once he picked up his tune in one of the soberdanian inns. Fingering the instrument, he dreamt of enrapturing his audience like the great musician Tolde Heremon. He sighed as he realized that he was yet a long way from attaining true musical mastery, especially as he had found himself beginning to be slightly attracted to the more shadowy businesses of the city. Hanging around the marketplace, he had had more than one occasion to see a pickpocket at work, it seemed like an easy way to get some money, more dangerous but less tedious than trying to make a living as street musician.
Thievery ... dangerous but lucrative. He might even have to use his strange knife for more than just peeling apples. Taking it out of the sheath, he slid his thumb across the angled blade, wondering again why one would want to forge such a weapon. Turning the hilt towards himself, he examined again the carving at the end of it, though the image had imbedded itself so deep in his mind that he did not need to look at it to remember it. He was still clueless what it represented, regretting that he had yet not seen it when his father had trust it into his hands. Well, he had had other questions on his mind at that moment, like, why did his dad leave him like this ... He still didn't understand it, and his father had offered no explanation but 'they have found me'.
Putting the blade back, he came back to reality. Checking the stand of the sun, he found that it was late enough to start his display at the nearest inn, hoping that he would get enough coins to buy himself a hot meal as his stomach felt empty. Someday, he told himself, yes, someday, he would leave this city and find his dad. Little did he know that he'd leave the city much earlier than he had expected.
That evening, after he ended playing, a slender woman approached him. At first, he thought that she had fallen under his charms, some women had a fondness for halfling lovers, but her eyes told him differently. Grasping his hand, she told him how much she had loved his playing, leaving a scrap of paper in his palm. Unfolding it later in a corner, he found that the same emblem as on his blade had been drawn on it and under it the words 'hide your blade, leave the city and look out for the banshee'. At first, he thought it a joke, but that night, he could find no sleep and left the city at first light, slightly worried but also quite excited and very intrigued.
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."