Here he is <3

[hider=Leicester] 

Name: Leicester Mont’Claud (Pronounced = Lester)
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Class: Blademourner (Assassin) (Level 0)

What did you want to be when you grow up? 
Leicester doesn’t think that far ahead. He’s grown up the last nineyears having no one to fend for him but himself. He thinks that life is all about getting to your next meal. At least that’s how he started out. He’s learned that if he bathed often, kept stock of decent clothing, he could make himself out to be a rather convincing model of a noble child. Some days maybe a merchant’s boy, peddling his wares at 70% off. 

Who is your Mentor (Bio included in this section)?
For the first six years of his life, Leicester owed his survival to a man he knew only as Mr. Hobbs. Hobbs was nothing more than a beggar, but he was a beggar that fed him, bathed him, and kept him warm at night while he went without. Hobbs, in the short time Leicester was with him, had taught him the basics of survival. In addition to teaching him the Elven language, he was also taught how to worm his way into the pockets of any passersby, and in other cases, into their hearts. Hobbs taught Leicester how to lie, how to cheat, how to twirl a sentence on the tip of his tongue to make people believe whatever improbability he spouted out. It wasn’t until a rainy day in the fall when tragedy struck, where Hobbs was confronted and murdered by street urchins who thought he looked at them the wrong way. Leicester tried to intervene, but was easily knocked out by the older boys. 
	When he came to, he and Hobbs had been stripped of all their belongings and worldly possessions. He scrambled to his feet to see if he could help his guardian, but he was too late. By the time Leicester clamored over his legs and managed to look into his eyes, Hobbs was nothing more than a cold cadaver. He couldn’t hold back the wrenching sob that escaped his mouth, but was quick to catch himself once he realized he was clutching something in his hand. He gingerly opened it to reveal a small blade made of dark obsidian. It seemed to have been fashioned perfectly for his hand as it fit in a way that made discomfort nonexistent. Thought the metal was black as night, he thought he could see a red tinting to it if looked through his peripheral vision. The blade pulsed, albeit weakly, with an otherworldly energy. When it spoke, Leicester had all but lost his footing. It whispered dark nothings into his mind with a silver tongue that urged him in both justice and vengeance. Leicester had never held a blade before, but to use it to take another’s life? And Why Not? The blade would ask. Why not take a life when another has already been taken. These children committed this crime in greed and avarice. You will be delivering justice to these unenlightened fools. A life for a life. Fair, is it not?” Looking back toward Hobb’s corpse, Leicester resolved that the blade was right. The urchins would pay.
	
They would. They would pay in blood.

	For the last nine years Leicester has been travelling between the cities of Secomber, Loudwater and Llorkh. Growing in strength, lying and thieving whenever possible, he killed only when necessary. He found that as time grew on, with every kill he notched on his mind, he could feel something growing within him, like a muscle worked with strain, but he was sure it wasn’t anything truly physical. It gave him small, but interestingly new abilities. The blade that was once nothing more than a dagger, had grown into a slender shortsword. The sword whispered to Leicester through some sort of telepathic link, guiding him, teaching him, honing his abilities, and occasionally urging him to kill. Leicester resisted the sword’s urgings, and the sword was okay with that. They had each other, and together they would survive. They were the only friends they each had.
What person(s) of interest do you know in the village? Who all do you have a relationship with?:
Leicester is coming to the village with one thing on his mind: Information. He’s hitched a ride with a merchant who says he makes monthly visits to trade with the people there. He has reason to believe, due to the sword’s influence, that there may be others like it in the village, or at least somewhere in the east. Other than that, he knows no one from the village. Aside from his objective, he feels that he needs to leave his comfort zone. The three cities he’s lived in so far have nothing more to offer him. He’s headed east to find new things, and forge new relationships.

Equipment:
1) The Blade
2) Adventurer’s Kit (Inside Flint &Steel, ten days of trail rations, 50ft of hempen rope, set of lockpicking tools, two torches)
3) Mr. Hobb’s signet ring

Class Skills: (Skills taught by the Blade)
1) Moderate Swordplay. Leicester fancies himself a decent swordsman, and has taught himself how to hold and swing a blade. As a blademourner, and the foreign, slender design of his blade, he is constantly developing his own unique technique.
2) Shadow Step – Leicester is as quiet as a mouse in the dark, yet as deadly an owl preying on that mouse.
3) Blademourner’s Drain- Every time Leicester is forced to kill, a small sliver of that creature’s strength is sapped, and stored within him, increasing his attributes by a small amount. These slivers are miniscule at best, but add up over time. The stronger the creature, the more strength that is drained.
4)Dark Reaping – The blade becomes entirely incorporeal, yet solid enough to strike home. For a few moments, with the flick of the wrist, the Blade can stretch up to three times its length, acting as a very sentient whip.

Villager Skills: (Things taught by Mr. Hobb)
1)Speech Craft – Leicester can weave an intricate lie in a moment’s notice.
2)Pick Pocket – Leicester can easily pick the pocket of anyone not entirely aware of their own person.
3) Observant Eye- Leicester is aware of his immediate surroundings at all times, and can recall names, faces, and things said without much trouble.

[/hider]