Morgan Donne

[Morgan Donne]

Morgan Donne Appearance Race: Human Gender: Male Age: 30 Birthday: 1 Summer 485 Birthplace: Sunberth Appearance: - Morgan is thin and lithe, built strong and light like a reed. His eyes are dark, and his hair was a dark brown in his youth, but he's found himself graying rather early. Streaks of grey run through his hair, very nearly blotting out the color in some spots. He keeps his hair short, though it is thick, and the most maintenance he tends to do is a hand run through it during the day. His eyes are sunken, resting above rich, dark circles perhaps belying his true means of employ. His teeth are straight, and his nose looks as if it's been broken. His smile is crooked, one lip curling more so than the other making it seem more a smirk. He dresses plainly, in dark, earthy colors. His cloak is dark blue, and he tends to wear it at night in an attempt to blend in to his surroundings. He lost the ring finger of his right hand in an incident in his youth, something he uses to build his mystique in certain circles. He's a handsome enough man, if a bit on the sallow side. Perhaps if he saw the sun a bit more? Character Concept: - "Nothin' to see here. I'm just a simple keymaker. Move along then yeah?" Character History: -Born in the summer to an enterprising locksmith and her thieving husband, Morgan lived in relative happiness for the first years of his life. His mother sold her locks to the foolish merchants that came through Sunberth and his father relieved him of their possessions just as soon as he had the opportunity. It wasn't honest, but they ate and their son ate. His mother often mentioned when he was a lad that to survive, one must do what had to be done. He was a smart child, spending equal amounts of time watching his mother craft her wares in the market as he did playing lookout for his light-fingered father. He asked questions some days, and on other days he just sat entranced, absorbing all he could of the lessons before him. He enjoyed each trade and found before his tenth year that he had an aptitude for them both. Before long he spent his days helping his mother with her locks, or meandering through crowds allowing his hands to slip in and out of pockets and bags instinctively. He loved the feel of his loot: the gold coins, the tiny precious gemstones he had filched from travelers. Night would find him with his father, or sat by their hearth fiddling with the set of tools his father had given him and the locks made by his mother. It was in his early teens that the third finger was taken from his right hand. His story varies with each telling. He has said it was bitten off by a dog; that it was broken by the wheel of a passing wagon; even that it had been smashed off by the hammer of an irate blacksmith he'd been trying to fool. It could have been any of those things, and it could have been none. Asking him gets nothing but a smile and story. As his talents grew, so too did his boredom. A young man now he moved through the nights in Sunberth now like a fish through water. No stranger to scuffles with armed guards in the darkness, he'd taken to carrying a corded sap on his hip. It was a dark night in the fall when he lost his father. Breaking into the warehouses they'd run afoul of a trio of mercenaries. The two had fled to the roofs in search of escape, and in their haste to flee the older Donne had lost his footing and tumbled to the streets below. While not an undue height, he was an older man... His son continued his flight, pausing once to look back at the broken figure on the street below. The sky opened up and rain soaked the town, and it was a wet and cold Morgan Donne who returned to his mother with the news. He cried on her shoulder as he told her, and she comforted him. Not once did the look of steely resolve leave her face, and if she cried it was not in front of her son. She had always been a good mother. Life continued, as it is wont to do. Morgan spent more time with his mother for almost a year, helping her with the locks with little thought spared for his former profession. The boredom came again, as he knew it would. His mother had known as well, told him that she could feel it building up in his chest. He'd returned home one day to find her standing with his in her hands, waiting on his arrival. She'd held his face in her hands and planted a tender kiss upon his brow. Syliras, she'd told him, the center of the world. She had wished him well and told him to make the trip back to his home to see her if ever he was able. She understood. He was his father's son. She'd wiped one tear from her face as her son, grown into a fine locksmith and a finer thief, disappeared into the failing light. He traveled with a caravan of merchants, doing his best to befriend the guards. He repaired locks and made keys for the merchants and they kept him fed, occasionally tossed him a handful of silver and a flagon of wine. Night after night he dreamt of Syliras as he tinkered with locks by a failing lantern, wry smile secure on his face. Center of the world? Home of all its treasures. Language Fluent Language: Common Skills Skill EXP Total Proficiency Larceny 15RB, 11SP 26/100 Competent Stealth 7SP 7/100 Novice Weapon: Sap 6SP 6/100 Novice Locksmithing 26SP 26/100 Competent Lores -Using a crowbar to jimmy a stubborn lock -Drunk merchants and how to spot them Possessions -Simple Cotton Shirt -Simple Pants -Simple Undergarments -Simple Woolen Cloak, Dark Blue -Simple Boots, Leather 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: -Comb (Wood) -Brush (Wood) -Soap -Razor -Balanced Rations (1 Week's worth) -1 eating knife -Flint & Steel -Sap -Traveler's Toolkit, Keymaker's -3 lbs Tobacco -Vest, Burglar's -2 Vials, Acid -Crowbar Heirloom: -Thieves' Tools Housing Location: Traveler's Row Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting +100 GM 100 GM Housing Cash-In +500 GM 600 GM Sap - 1 GM 599 GM Traveler's Toolkit, Keymaker's - 47 GM 50 SM 551 GM 50 SM 3 lbs Tobacco -15 SM 551 GM 35 SM Vest, Burglar's -75 GM 476 GM 35 SM 2 Vials, Acid -10 GM 466 GM 35 SM Crowbar -2 GM 464 GM 35 SM Lodging -2 GM 462 GM 35 SM Tip -20 SM 462 GM 15 SM Beer -2 SM 462 GM 13 SM Thread List Summer 515AV: 12 Summer, The Game Reserve