[hider=Garret Kilroy][indent]
[center][img]http://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/07102013MarcovDraeven.jpg[/img]
[color=brown]Garret[/color][/center]
[hr]
[color=brown]Name:[/color] Garret Kilroy
[color=brown]Age:[/color] 29
[color=brown]Race:[/color] Beorc
[color=brown]Gender:[/color] M
[color=brown]Affiliated Nation:[/color] None
[color=brown]Class:[/color] Thief
[color=brown]Inventory:[/color] Iron dagger, lockpicking tools.
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[color=brown]Personality:[/color] Garret is a conscientious man, in a way. When taking on a task it's a toss up on whether or not he'll finish it. Garret faces the reality that there are tasks simply too costly for the benefit they give, but when he stands to gain enough, he'll give everything for it. At times it goes out of the realm of conscientious and turns into plain stubbornness. Garret keeps a certain pride in his work, but he knows a lost cause when he sees one. Even so, there are things he won't give up on.

Complimenting this nature is Garret's cautiousness. He doesn't take big risks and he dislikes big unknowns. He never fights a fight he can't win and tries to keep variables within his reach. He's pragmatic enough to know there's only so much he can do, but he makes the best use of what he has.

What holds Garret back from success is his misanthropy. He's snarky and sarcastic to others and tends to bite back when confronted. His caution, pride and mistrust has made him into a social porcupine, which only compounds the issues he has. Still, he seems to lose his edge when drinking and can be downright amiable when drunk. But that only more plainly reveals the palpable line he draws between him and other people. 

[color=brown]Background:[/color]
Garret's childhood began with a cabin in the woods, where he and his family lived peacefully. His mother, father, and 2 siblings survived on nature's bounty in one of Crimea's forests. They hunted, gathered and scraped together a life there, and at night they looked at the stars shining above, far away from human hands. Frankly, it was a life Garret hated. His days were spent training with his father, a great ranger. Day in, day out, tracking, shooting and surviving. Garret's apparent lack of interest did nothing to stop his father's perfectionism and he was forced to spend his days locked in an endless cycle of training. His only solace during those days was his mother, a kind and patient woman, who would tell him and his siblings stories of the outside world. Young Garret dreamed of that world, despite his parents' warnings. No matter how bad it was, surely it was better than what he had. Soon enough, Garret encountered the outside world in the worst way possible.

Despite their best efforts to be self-sufficient, trips to the local village were a necessity for goods they couldn't procure from nature. When this happened Garret's father went alone while the rest of the family stayed at home. The children were too young, he'd said, and his mother had a strange mark on her arm which apparently prevented her from going. Garret had never understood the significance of that mark until later, though even that wouldn't have prevented what had happened.

Garret's mother had left to pick mushrooms but had been out for too long, so Garret went to look for her. What he found instead was her body, flecked with blood, surrounded by knights in armor. He sat quietly in a bush, watching and waiting, hoping the worst was not true. He burned the appearance of the knights, and particularly what looked to be their leader, in his mind, focusing on their emblems - a stylized dragon, or perhaps a wyvern. They left soon enough and Garret went to his mother's body. There he faced the truth; his mother was dead.

 When his father came home Garret told him what happened and implored him to take revenge, but his father refused to move. Angry, Garret asked for the reason why. "Political power" was the phrase uttered, but Garret had scarcely registered it before he'd gone out the door. He had already decided he would leave one day, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. And so he left, abandoning the bow, swearing to estrange himself from his father's teachings, and departed for the wider world.

And thus, in his teenage years, he became a runaway. Just another street urchin running amok in a small town in Crimea, with nothing but the clothes on his back. He was introduced to the wider world quickly when a thief stole what meager gold he had. A prelude for what was to come, though he did not know it yet. He learned his lessons the hard way, building up something one day and losing it the next. Even so, he never forgot his goal. He slowly made his way up, gathering information about what he saw that day. He found out about the nation of Daein, their hatred of the Laguz and what it meant to be branded. Then, in a fateful encounter, he found a name to a face. The troupe of armoured knights passed through the quiet town and he finally learned about his enemy. A troupe of soldiers said to be on a mission to hunt down Laguz, their leader famous in their homeland of Daein. 

Thrilled at having his revenge close at hand Garret took this information to the authorities. But they did nothing. To move against the military force of another nation needed more concrete evidence than the statement of a street urchin, and it was clear that the local law enforcement didn't want to deal with it. They told Garret that they would try something, so he waited. But as time wore on he started losing faith in them. At some point he realised they weren't even trying. Disillusioned with authority, he decided to try other means.

The time came when he decided not to fight against thieves and rogues, but to join them instead. He lent his skills to a bandit group, learning their ways and the ways of the world. He learned of the underground and realised the opportunities it presented for his revenge. The group was disbanded by the local militia soon enough but he had learned all he needed. He became a wandering sellsword known for his accuracy at range, survival skills, and prickliness, as well as his tendency to accept any kind of job that payed well enough. He traveled across Crimea towards Daein, always keeping an ear out for information on his mother's murderers. But he had no way of knowing it would be a longer journey than he thought.

He spent years in Daein, taking jobs and learning what he could about the armoured troupe, but it was difficult to know exactly what they were doing. They were moving furtively, leaving scant traces. He picked up all he could, piecing together a story. Eventually he verified his information from a trustworthy information dealer. The troupe had been tasked with finding Hatari, the legendary desert city. Garret's stance on the illusive utopia was the same as many others, one of heavy disbelief. Even so, if the troupe was looking for it then so would he. If they were headed to the same place they would cross places eventually. Garret would have his revenge, and he would let nothing stop him.[/indent][/hider]