Valerio Marcellus

[Valerio]

Valerio Marcellus Appearance Race: Human Gender: Male Age: 26 Birthday: 56th of Spring, 489 AV Birthplace: Zeltiva Appearance: There are few things physically remarkable about Valerio to note, as he could blend in rather easily with the garden variety of humans found about Zeltiva. Standing at five feet and eleven inches, his build is slender due to the modest diet most folk subsist on in the port city. There are no malformations or defects to be found, though he does possess a simple coffee stain of a birthmark on his left hand beneath his pinky finger. Otherwise his skin is rather pallid, and provides a good indication of what bells he prefers to operate on. His dark hair is often kept short, though rarely ever in place, brushed about every which way he feels is necessary to keep his blue eyed vision free of obstruction. Having little care in the world for how others might appraise him, one might note he has a rather disheveled appearance most of the time. For East Street, this would seem to fit the norm, and makes for a rather dull fixture where presentation is concerned. The clothes he wears are of homespun make, neither flashy nor refined, and usually consist of earthen tones that make him appear more a mindless peasant than able thief. His shoulders are prone to slump by what most of his kin call the weight of oppression, spine arched and knees lax. All together, it would seem that life has treated him unduly in the time he’s spent walking the land. Character Concept Heavily embedded in East Street philosophy, Valerio has what most would consider a cutthroat outlook on life. He values the weight of a gold coin, the comfort from a bed of shadows, and the piquancy of a delectable secret. To those cut from the same cloth, friends are easy to come by and made with little effort. Cross him however, and one may notice their own purse strings curiously loosened. Living just above the veil of chaos where common folk are concerned, he is composed in manner and dignity, but can easily transition at whim. Outwardly he is as polite as they come, if not a touch theatric in delivery. If one spends enough time in conversation with him, they may take note of a ruse and suddenly become uncomfortable in his presence. With authority, the best shit-eating grin he can manage is applied, and all queries are answered with feigned innocence and childlike awe. If his mockeries are pointed out however, the charade quickly drops, and is replaced with a detached sense of civility and muted disdain. Confrontation is generally avoided where the threat of physical violence is concerned, preferring to keep all disputes to a fiery spray of convictions rather than ascend into the realm of blades and fists. But keeping a dagger sheathed at his side does well enough to speak to his commitments in these matters, as he has been known to draw it when feeling particularly ornery. Having never stuck someone who didn’t deserve it in his mind, the sight of blood still often changes his impression of things quickly. Orphans hold a naturally unique place in his heart. To see a child struggling for survival plucks on several heartstrings that distort an otherwise steely composure. Fraternal instinct becomes a natural thing, though he is not above ladling out a healthy dose of punishment to those foolish enough to test him. Under normal circumstances this is done in order to keep the child from falling to a greater fate, and keeps the overall best interest in mind; skins intact, and stomachs fed. Character History An orphan’s tale does not begin without a few knots of tragedy woven into the fabric of their lives. And yet, it is hardship which endows that life with strength. The solitude, lacking a moral compass to point true north--these things steel an orphan prematurely, taxing those who must fend for themselves. Trust is hard to come by, love a novelty. But not all parentless infants need become disillusioned by their fate. A few happen to do just fine for themselves. Their convictions may be tested, backs bent, wills stretched, but never do they break. True strength is measured in perseverance. *** That day the rain fell gently from a gray morning sky, softening the dry earth and washing away the dust that had collected from a season of drought. With it came a welcomed coolness to the air that eased the sweat dripping from a mother-in-labor’s creased brow. She was a pretty thing by most standards, hair dark and eyes soft, with a smile that warmed her face and the spirits of those around her. That beauty had attracted the wiles of a young sailor on shore leave three seasons past, their brief encounter resulting in the conception of a child. But pretty had no bearing on fortitude, and the loss of blood that came from the new child was enough to take her life. That was all that Valerio wished to know about his mother: the day she sacrificed herself so that her child might live. Not because other details of his mother’s life were unimportant. They were. But because the value of an idea was more persuasive than any memory a stranger could impart with retelling. Neither had ever shared a single word with the other, yet an invaluable lesson had been passed on in a single selfless act. That was all the young boy felt he needed to direct his course and never once look back. But the path most available to him in the beginning offered its fair share of bumps in the road. Passed between fostering parents who had made strong ties with his mother, Valerio dismissed all attempts for anyone to get close to him. In most cases, this resulted in friction within the household, and rather than confront his problems in an open and honest manner, gave the boy all the reason he needed to part ways on his own. Foster child quickly became street urchin, and urchin, thief. It began harmlessly enough. Stealing was little more than a source of entertainment, a way to pass the time and inject a savory dose of adrenaline into the veins. The fare was a paltry sum, and getting caught was a firm beating at worst for one so young. But the bruises they left were never enough to deter him from trying again, and again, and again...until his desire was clutched greedily between grease stained fingers. In this manner, he became self taught, and with age, so did his appetites grow. Language Fluent Language: Common Basic Language: Fratava Skills Skill EXP Total Proficiency Larceny 15RB, 11SP 26 Competent Acrobatics 10SP 10 Novice Negotiation 10SP 10 Novice Weapon (Dagger) 9SP 9 Novice Stealth 5SP 5 Novice Lores Lore of Zeltiva Streetplan Lore of East Street Informants Possessions 1 Set of Clothing -Simple Shirt -Simple Pants -Simple Undergarments -Simple Cloak -Simple Boots 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: -Comb (Wood) -Brush (Wood) -Soap -Razor -Balanced Rations (1 Week's worth) -1 eating knife -Flint & Steel -Thieves’ Tools -Weapon Tarnish -Glass Cutter -Mask -Dagger Heirloom: A silver locket with his mother's name engraved within, presumably a gift from his father whom he's never met. Valerio wears it tucked beneath his shirt upon a silver chain that rests over his heart. Housing Location: East Street, Zeltiva House: 20x20 flat complete with hearth, bunk, chest, chair, and table. All the amenities a scoundrel could ever want! Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting +100 GM 100 GM Dagger -2 GM 98 GM Thieves' Tools -30 GM 68 GM Glass Cutter -10 GM 58 GM Weapon Tarnish -4 GM 54 GM Mask -3 SM 53 GM 7 SM Thread List