A slightly racist Eladrin, with a quick blade and even quicker wit.
My name is Evarrin. I'm a rogue. What more is there to say?
I wasn't always a rogue. No, when I was younger my parents wanted me to become a great wizard or leader. I went through my studies, learning different things, but my favorite thing was the sword. Sure, all eladrin have to learn how to use a longsword, but I was interested in the rapier. My family sword is a rapier, and I used to dream of using it in combat. So I studied.
Some of the others that I trained with would talk about what they wanted to do when they came of age. One of them said that he wanted to be a great Wizard of the Spiral Tower. Another said that he was going to be a warlord. The last sparked my interest though. He said that he was going to be a treasure hunter. I later asked him what he meant by that, and he told me that it was the only thing he could think to call it without being shunned. He wanted to be a rogue. To move in the shadows, striking his enemies when they least expected it, and taking from the rich for the betterment of others. I wasn't too sure about the betterment of others part, but I liked the sound of it all. So I asked him how he was going to learn. When he said that he honestly had no idea, I told him that I would train with him, that we could practice our skills on each other, until we were good enough to turn them on the unsuspecting masses of our city in the Feywild. So we did, improving as much as we could, until we decided that we were skilled enough to venture forth.
It was fun, taking from the travelers that browsed the marketplace, snatching purses right under the noses of the guards. Until my friend got into trouble. One of the travelers caught him, and, instead of turning him into the magistrate, the traveler took him back to the inn. I followed, climbing onto the rooftops of the low buildings to stay out of sight, and when I heard my friends distressed yells, I climbed into the room through the window. The traveler had his sword out and was casually cutting into my friend. He hadn't noticed me come in, and I did the only thing that I could think to do. I drew my dagger and leapt at the stranger, burying it deep into his back. The man screamed in pain and dropped to the ground dead. I panicked, leaving the dagger there and rushing back to the window to escape. I left my friend there to be accused of the murder of the traveler, while I ran back to my home.
My parents were out, and my siblings were away at the academy, so I threw some clothing into my bag, counted out the gold that I had pilfered, and raided my family's storerooms. I took everything that I thought I would need, and when I was about to leave, stopped.
There, above the mantle, was the family sword. I reached up and took it from it's resting place and tied it to my belt. Then I ran. I fled the Feywild, coming to Flagsdale. I passed myself off as a coming of age traveler and enjoyed the free food and lodgings.
Now, I live with the constant anguish of abandoning my friend, and the fear that my family and the city guards would come looking for me, to pay for my crimes. So I turned that fear and anguish into something else. I make fun of the others around me to hide the fact that I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, positive that a ranger will be there to take me back.