 Brand Tõsen
Full Name: Brand Tõsen (real name below)
Age: 20
Class(es): theif(major)/fighter(minor)
Race: halfling
Subrace: (If Any)
Alignment: CG
Deity: None
Bio/Description:
Real Name: Brand Shadowhawk the Third
Alias: Brand Tôsen
Exile of Brand
Life in my family was harsh.
Father trained us constantly in his arts. He made no secret of his work. He was an assassin, and a very good one at that. Flame (youngest sister) had the most trouble, for she wasn’t as quick as myself or Steel (younger brother) though she had other talents that saved her from his wrath. She was the bane of every man whom she came in contact with and could work them to her wishes.
Mother supervised and patched us up after each failure. She always was around to make sure Father didn’t go too rough with us, but also made sure we (especially myself) wouldn’t take the training lightly. I always wondered why she could control Father when he was about to lose his temper and what talents she had, for she didn’t talk about it much.
On the eve of my 12th birthday, I was introduced to the local thieves’ guild. As Father and myself walked through the rooms, thieves parted to allow us to pass, giving us plenty of room. Mostly humans were members but I did see some half-elves and a dwarf. We came to the Guild master’s rooms and were admitted without delay. Obviously Father had a reputation. [Insert name here] and Father talked in hushed tones for a while as they looked at me and then nodded. It was agreed that I would spend time within the guild to learn their ways and how they function.
Gaining trust of the humans was hard but the half-elves took me in to their circle and looked out for me. Arrogance in the humans was rife, although it seems my heritage saved me from a good deal of persecution till one day. I was summoned to the Masters Room. There stood a group of humans I had know only by sight and they sneered at me. Then the Master assigned me a task, it was an assassination. I stood to attention and asked the proper questions as Father had taught me. The target was a human girl of some noble family. Then I asked the wrong question, why. Instantly the Master struck me across the face and I blacked out.
Next I knew I was at home, with Mother tending to my face. Father was cursing in the background at two thugs. He ordered them out and came over to us.
“Your lucky son. Why is never the question to ask. Do the job and leave it behind you”
As he spoke I looked into Mothers eyes. They had squinted slightly; otherwise her face had not betrayed any emotion. I knew she didn’t agree.
“When your piece together your rattled head, you’re going back and doing the job.” His face-hardened.
I nodded slightly, for it was all I could do and lay down. The next afternoon I returned to the guild, half of my face blackened with bruising. I got the information I needed and headed out to the rooftops. It wasn’t long till I found the ideal nest, and abandoned room on the path of the target. The lock was child’s play to pick and I set myself up at the window, bow at the ready.
Hours passed, until they came. The noble family and their daughter must have been about six years old I thought. I drew the arrow in the bow and sighted along the shaft. She looked very much like Flame, which caused me to have second thoughts, and relaxed the string. Then thoughts of Father and the guild flashed through my mind and I took up the bow quickly and sighted along the arrow. All it would have taken was to let go and I would have ended a life. Then the question came back to me, why.
I couldn’t do it, the arrow clattered to the floor and I hung my head in shame. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, which scared me to death. Waiting for a deathblow I kept very still, but none came so I turned to see the owner of the hand. It was Mother.
“You’re a good boy Brand, this life isn’t for you. However you can’t return. The Master would want your life and your father wouldn’t do anything to save you so run, leave here and us. Keep running till you can fend off the Master, I know you will be able one day.”
She smiled and pressed a small pin into my hand, a small hawk made of obsidian. “It is yours, I know your father would want you to have it when he deemed it to be appropriate”, she laughed softly, “he wasn’t much of a thief, I could pick his pockets any day. Now go and remember, we love you.”
That was the last I saw my family, seven years ago.
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