Name: Rook
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Race: Human

Appearance: While not unattractive, Rook is a man of fairly average stature, and would not stand out in a crowd were it not for his almost theatrical charm. A wild array of dyed head-scarves, almond brown eyes, and a soft smile distract from an otherwise rough demeanor, though it is impossible not to notice his 'once-too-many-times-broken' nose and clipped left ear. He keeps his brown hair cropped and simple, but his garb is often of high quality and intricately patterned, and his already-damaged left ear sports three golden rings.

History: Rook is a gambling man, and if anything can be said about him, its that 'he gets by'. Born to a family of too many children and too little means to feed them, he left at a young age, near fourteen - at the behest of his head-in-the-clouds mother but to the detriment of his far more 'grounded' father's health - to begin a life on the open road. Early on, he learned to appreciate three things - a quick tongue, a bit of coin, and a knob of iron at the end of a stick. Blessed with quick hands and a smooth voice, he made much of his way traveling from inn to inn, hustling the ignorant of their cash. In possession of a set of dice so loaded some have called them magical, the once flea-ridden youth found ways to divert fistfuls of gold into his lap, trading worn woolen garments for silks and becoming something of a local legend. He has only returned home once, when he was by chance informed of his father's pending funeral. 

In the recent weeks, he chose Brackenhorst as victim to his curious brand of tyranny. While nipping spare coin from the foolish and ingratiating himself with the local populace, he by chance met a man named Thaddeus. He'd heard some whispers of the man but he truly knew very little, and his demeanor intrigued Rook, so he inevitably challenged Thaddeus to a simple dice game; guess odds or evens, and you win. He handily 'earned' the man's coin in three quick bouts, but in a not-uncharacteristic move, he bought food and drink for the man using his own lost wealth. It took more than a few mugs of ale, but Rook was able to tease out the vague details of Thaddeus' reason for returning home; some hoo-ha about orcs and the Watchful requiring aid. While he'd never been a man to follow 'noble' ideals, he was interested enough to gamble with Thaddeus one last time. Should Thaddeus guess correctly, Rook would join him, and assist in whatever ways he could; and against all 'odds', the Watchful won the bet. Not knowing quite sure what he was getting involved in, but excited for the possibilities nonetheless, Rook vowed to followed Thaddeus as far as he was needed.

Personality: Rook is most easily - and correctly - described as a free spirit, but most definitely not a reverent one. When asked what he finds most important in life (as often happens amongst the intoxicated), he lists simply 'wine, women, and song.' He ruthlessly sucks gold from the hapless, but he never leaves them helpless either; he just as often pays their stay in town as robs them of their valuables. Truth be told, he's not quite sure what he's looking for out of life, but he knows he could never just sit and manage a shop or till the land. There's too much fire in him for that.

Skills: Besides being quick with his hands and tongue, Rook has picked up many small, useful skills along his less-than-glamorous path through life, including lockpicking, small-time hunting, cooking, brewing, and the like; he can also charm people in many unexpected ways. His easy demeanor makes him hard to disagree with, and he uses it to his advantage. Finally, he is quite skilled with small blades and clubs; not a duelist by any means, life on the streets has taught him many ways to throw daggers and disarm and disable a warrior before he is able to swing his fancy sword.

Possessions: A three foot iron mace with a small, round head, and three daggers; two with short, broad blades and one slender blade nearing nine inches. His set of 'magical' dice, and a large ceramic jug of wine that seems near bottomless. He never carries much gold on him, but he has enough to get by, and can certainly always 'acquire' more. He also has a tin of chewing weed, a rare indulgence of his hometown with a sour bite that leaves the gums and tongue tingling.