From a start in Celene
roguishly rogue-ey human rogue
Qrl (Karl) the human rogue. He’s pretty non-descript. He’s got medium brown hair, he’s average height 5’8”-5’10”, depending on how slouchy he is at the time, average weight, and with medium brown eyes. His hair and eyes have relatively little pigment, and Qrl does tend to slouch quite a bit and has gotten pretty good at not being noticed when he doesn’t want to be. It’s only when he really puts on the charm, (or when he bungles something dramatically,) that pay much attention to him and he likes it that way. He dresses in rather well made but very plain clothes most of the time. This is to make up for growing up with rather poor parents and dressing so shabby all the time as a kid. He was never sure where he was from exactly as his parents had borne him on the boat, (the Ladybird,) just like his brother, (a year younger,) and his sister, (3 years younger.) They were merchants who lived on a river boat (the little house kind with a mule to pull it, not the mark twain paddle boat kind,) and he spent most of his youth in the dockside areas of the few towns they traded between. Not being a strong guy, he learned to keep out of other peoples way most of the time, learned to be a little faster than most of the bullies, and learned to talk his way out of pretty much everything else. (17 Cha!) he tries not to wear his armor too much in town because he’d rather most people just took him for a regular townie that for an adventurer, again, mostly to avoid notice. When he’s nervous or thinking about something or distracted, he rolls an odd coin back and forth and does some other simple tricks with it absentmindedly. It’s worthless, but he’s had it since he was a kid and his father had gotten it in a batch of “Rare and valuable ancient coins from a far off land” which turned out to be junk. Another bad deal, but Qrl thought it was a neat thing to play with. He went to adventurer school after the night he became an adult, and had been celebrating at a divey tavern with some other local young porters from the docks (and some pretty barmaids,) and stumbled down to where his familys boat had been moored in the wee hours of the morning only to see it engulfed in flames and sinking into the river. Some of the other traders on the river were pulling their boats away and putting out little cinders that had drifted over from the fire, but there was no saving the Ladybird by the time he’d arrived. He passed out drunk in the mud.