An Outsider — Roleplayer Guild

Appearance:

Name:

Faen

Race/Nationality:

Ferelden

Age:

27

Gender:

Male

Class:

Assassin

Personality:

Faen, according to popular opinion, is a bastard in both name and deed. He displays a casual arrogance, believing himself to be superior to near everyone he meets. Cynicism colours his every deed and thought, an early life on the streets of Denerim leading him to believe that everyone is as self serving as he is. However these are just the sides of himself he presents to the outside world, a defence as it were. Inwardly Faen is a young man with high ideals, a person who wishes he could be the dashing hero, the type stories are told about, though his harsh upbringing makes him doubt such a person exists.

Faen believes a fair fight is one that he has already won before it has even started. Being called a coward for sticking a knife in an enemy's back is more favourable to him than being cut in half by a superior foe in an honourable fight.

He likes strong liquor, loose women, a good blade and the look in an opponents eye when they realise they are outclassed. He doesn’t like low paying jobs, vengeful husbands or cold nights.

History:

Faen was born to a two-penny Denerim whore and an unknown father. An inauspicious origin, but to his mind the mark of a story is hardly how it begins, but how it develops. His mother, realising that she could hardly afford to feed herself never mind a squealing babe, took him to the Chantry and dumped him at the foot of the Maker. Faen doesn’t know if it was a tearful parting, but sincerely doubt she spared him much thought.

The Mothers of the Chantry took pity on him, naming him Faen and raising the young infant out of their own pockets. As he grew older they set him to work, cleaning and scrubbing, all the while teaching him about the Chantry, lessons that did not sit well with the young lad. Secretly they began to wonder what to do with him, as they could not use him for odd jobs forever. Seeing that he was fit, healthy and above all strong for his age they decided to send him for Templar training. Unknown to the Sisters Faen had also learnt how to eavesdrop, and the thought of spending the rest of his life in service to the Maker was abhorrent to him. He stole into the night, escaping his idea of hell for another, far more real one.

The streets of Denerim are a dangerous place, as any guardsman worth his salt will tell you, but they are especially dangerous to a young boy on his own. The first couple of nights were a nightmare, a life in the Chantry had hardly prepared Faen for what he faced now. He was smart though, and quickly ingratiated himself with a group of other orphans, who taught him all the skills he would need to live on the streets, such as how to make himself look just pathetic enough while begging that people would take pity on him without being disgusted, or how to tell which merchants were the best marks while pick pocketing.

It was during a ‘foray’ into the market when Faen’s life took another turn. He had just delved his greedy little mitt into the pouch of a fat merchant when he was spotted by one of the merchants three guards. A chase ensued, the boy certain he would be caught and beaten. He led the three guards down an alleyway, vaulting a middle aged drunk passed out on the ground. His pursuers weren’t so lucky though, all three stumbling over the vagabond. Forgetting Faen they began to attack the drunk, when the strangest thing happened. The stranger pulled a knife and killed all three with the same ease a man would swat a bug. Faen learnt that this man was Marco Cato, a one time assassin for the Antivan Crows.

Faen, tired of living as an urchin, begged Marco to teach him how to be a warrior, a man with respect and honour. Marco, taking pity on the boy perhaps, said he would take him under his wing, but to lose the aspirations of respect and honour, as the skills he would teach the boy would bring neither. So began Faen’s tutelage in the way of the sword.

Mentor and student travelled Thedas together, Marco teaching Faen what it would take to survive this harsh world while ending the lives of others for money. Faen was a fast learner, quickly coming to surpass his teacher, though that may have had something to do with Marco’s overpowering desire for strong liquors. Still, the two had many adventures together, the stories of their time in the courts of the Empress of Orlais being of particular note. It was not to last though, as all good things must come to an end. Marco hadn’t evaded his fellow crows quite as well as he had originally thought, the assassins eventually tracking he and his new protégé down just outside of Kirkwall. A fierce battle ensued, several Crows falling that day, Marco amongst them.

Alone once more Faen returned to his old home of Denerim. He put his new earned skills to work, settling some old scores with old enemies that had long figured him for dead, making a name for himself as a man not to be messed with. Now he whittles away his days drinking, whoring and doing odd jobs that require a man well used to violence.

Weapons:

A double loading pistol grip crossbow, specially made, one of a kind and extremely expensive. He calls it his baby. A short sword he has named Last-Laugh and a dagger called Mother's Kiss. Secretes several throwing knives about his person, subscribing to the belief that you can never have enough knives. He never bothers naming them, as he keeps losing them in peoples torsos.

Armour:

Has a disdain of heavy armour, preferring his speed and naturally fast reflexes to carry him safe from harm. He usually dresses in browns, greys or blacks, the colours of a man who works in the dark. Will don light leather armour when the needs arise.

Skills:

Faen is a superlative crossbowman, making shots that would make tourney marksmen green with envy. His knife work is superb, and his swordplay excellent.
Has a vast amount of 'street smarts', knowing how to pick a lock, pick a pocket or walk silently.
Athletic.
Marco taught him the basics of alchemy, primarily how to make basic poisons, potions and bombs, and one extremely potent hangover cure.

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