Character Name: Abbey Howell

Canon/Original: Original

Gender: Female

Age: 15

Family: Lionel Howell (father, 35), Martha Howell (mother, deceased), Thorndike Howell (brother, 18)

Spirit:: N/A

Occupation: Thief

Place of Habitation: Originally from the Newbury Fiefdom, Abbey has a tendency to move around quite a bit.

Physical Description (five sentence minimum): Standing about 5'4", Abbey is a bit on the shorter side, this, combined with her flatter, lithe figure has lead many to mistake her as a young boy rather than a somewhat matured woman. Despite her stature, Abbey is fit, with defined muscle and a degree of flexibility and agility unseen in most people, even many that share her profession. She has learned to use her figure to an advantage, adorning herself in simple tunics and breeches that serve the dual purpose of giving her a greater degree of movement and helping her remain inconspicuous, disguised as some peasant boy. As such, she tends to keep her hair, a mousy brown, shoulder length at the longest, and generally unkempt.

A tragic history is told on her face, starting at the catastrophe that is her lower face. From chin to nose, Abbey's face is an awful mass of burn scars, a mosaic of rope-like blemishes that turn even the most sincere of smiles into terrible grimaces. Abbey has hidden this with bandannas, scarves and hoods, despite drawing criticism for attempting to appear "mysterious" or "frightening." With her face properly concealed, Abbey seems to have a bit of beauty hidden, despite her boyish disguise, and her eyes, a bright green, can display a charming degree of emotion given the right situation. Still, this is rare, and her eyes usually only shown a hardened aloofness or, occasionally, pain.

Personality (eight sentence minimum): Abbey tends to have a cold, analytical view of the world, distressingly mature beyond her age. She has few qualms for stepping on those she feels hinder her in her goals, stealing, lying, even killing a few times to get what she wants. Still, Abbey hasn't forgotten her impoverished past, she tends to sympathize with the lower class, rarely if ever stealing from them, occasionally helping out when she sees the poor in tough situations. Every once in a while, Abbey even indulges in fantasies of Robin Hood-esque adventures, still, her views tend to be grounded in reality, and she knows deep down that her actions are little more than common crimes. Abbey is a bright girl, and has a disturbing habit of aligning herself with initially successful causes, and pulling out just before they fail. Still, few suspect such a young girl of the type of underhanded tactics she often resorts to, as such, she has made herself a hidden powerhouse in the Thiasian underworld, that is, when she can get someone to look past her age and pay attention.

Despite her cynical outlook, her above average intelligence, and her slumlord-like qualities, Abbey is still young at heart. She often desires a life more like normal girls, married, perhaps with children on a small farm, even if it is under the rule of a government she tends to blame for society's ills. She often finds herself embarrassingly tongue-tied around men she finds attractive. True friends come rarely for the girl, and when they do, she tends to cling, perhaps afraid of being left alone as she was as a child.

History (ten sentence minimum): Born the second child of impoverished serfs, Abbey was raised in a rich household, working as a maid and servant to her rich lords. Looking back, Abbey would consider this a good point in her life, she was well fed, her lords were kind and they often spoke openly of society and politics, even when she was near. Abbey was a smart child, and picked most of this up easily. Still, as the girl's life has shown, all good things come to an end. Soon the superiors she looked upon fondly would be replaced by cold hearted, abusive masters that treated her like filth. Approaching the tender age of eight, Abbey learned the hard way what it meant to be taken advantage of, in the most disturbing sense of the phrase. The rest of her childhood was spent hungry, frightened, and in pain. Abbey, with the memories of her ideal life still in her head, had a firm belief that merely standing up to her oppressors would halt them, how wrong she was.

It was a dark day when Abbey refused to work for her lord, threatening him with the sharp end of a broken vase. The man had called her bluff, grabbing at her wrists that refused to stab at him, even though her mind screamed at her to kill him. He picked the small girl up, making her drop the shard before carrying her to a brazier. Abbey knew what was coming next, and, despite her best efforts, the bottom half of her face was terribly burned as he thrust her into the flames. By some sort of miracle, Abbey lived, though she wasn't the same optimistic child she was before. Abbey had learned what cruelty and tragedy were. This time, when she crept into her lord's bedchamber at night, left unlocked due to his foolish confidence, Abbey's hands were sure in their goals, and soon his throat lay open. His wife came next, Abbey striking just as quickly. With blood on her hands, the girl fled into the darkness.

The streets were hard for a girl with no experience, and it was only another stroke of luck that she was found by a kind thief and not a depraved murderer. The man that took her in fed her, sheltered her, even showed her how to survive on the streets. It was then that Abbey realized she couldn't go back to her old life, she was a killer, a criminal. She embraced her new life, picking up skills quickly, learning how society really worked away from the idealistic rantings of her rich lords. Still, as with her life before, good things end, and soon her mentor was slain in a squabble with a black market merchant. Abbey took what he had taught her and ran with it. For roughly five years she stole, lied and manipulated herself to the top, building a web of contacts and a plethora of identities. Now she stands on the top of the ever changing food chain of the Thiasian underworld, desperate to remain so, lest she goes back to a life of awful servitude or worse.

Plot Potential: Take a look at the Thieves Guild topic, Abbey would most likely have a big hand in that if it ends up working out. She would also work behind the scenes in the serf rebellion. Potentially, she could also deal with the Zerui, she's not above dealing datura.

SAMPLE RP (with this character only): It started like normal, the shadows of a dark alley, a thick scarf around her face, a dagger firmly placed in her belt, near the small of her back. Her contact stood, as always, at the other end of the alley, obscured by darkness, apparently alone. This was a new contact though, and something was wrong. In truth, Abbey knew the dangers of this particular meeting, another, more reliable contact had told her that this particular man, "Thomas Smithe," was a killer, and reportedly after some of the loot she had recently come into. Abbey had planned accordingly.

"Master Smithe?" Abbey inquired into the night, lamenting at the childish tone of her voice, it had lost more than one deal for her.

"Aye, and you would be Mary Wells?" came the reply. Abbey nodded. "That's me alright, I heard you deal in jimson weed, I might be looking to cut in on the business." She heard the man laugh.

"You heard right, but you're little more than a child, what are you doing getting involved with riff raff like me? Come here, girl, show me your face." Abbey was silent as she strode forward, one hand securing the scarf around her face. Soon she stood only a few feet from the man, revealing features that were... disappointingly plain, still, the man was rather tall, at least a head and a half taller than her, and powerfully built.

"Don't you trust me, Master Smithe?" she asked innocently, he laughed gruffly. For a few tense moments the man was silent, standing still as if deciding something, Abbey resisted the urge to draw her weapon. He seemed about to speak when suddenly, he lunged. She fought off a scream, remembering how her old lord had groped at her in a fashion similar to the way Smithe reached out now. He was practically on top of her, she merely fumbled with her dagger, it seemed stuck in her belt, and thoughts of her death raced through her mind. A quiet swishing sound destroyed her fears as surely as the arrow head now protruding from Smithe's throat destroyed his windpipe. He fell with a gurgling sound.

Abbey turned her back on the corpse, walking shakily a few feet away and spitting out bile that had come into her mouth. Rapid footsteps approached and Abbey instinctively threw her self against the chest of their owner, a thin man holding a bow. She felt an arm encircle her and, realizing what she was doing, pushed away. she looked up at the archer, he was a handsome man, with a full head of dark hair and a prominent jaw. She quickly replaced the sheepish look on her face with one of aloofness.

"Did he really deal in jimson weed?"

"Among other things." The archer replied, a note of confusion in his voice. He wasn't much older than Abbey, perhaps three or four years at the most, still, he hadn't seen her face, he would break himself off with her as the others had, best to not get involved at all.

"Good, find out who supplied him, it was the Baskar potentially, but probably a Thiasian." The man nodded and turned to leave. "Jason!" She exclaimed, he turned with a cocked eyebrow. "Speak of this to anyone, and I'll have you killed."

What's the name of the Creator God the Ekaini worship?: ((yep))

Well.

This is a fun character concept, to be sure, but beware of cliché. The 'skinny little feisty thief girl' IS a character trope, and you'll want to be aware of that. It seems you are. Play accordingly.

You would make a commie, wouldn't you? Just to push my buttons? I recommend looking up a few of the ideas actually current in the mid-1400s. Like Plato's Republic, or something. Or she could just be an amateur making it all up!

I have a feeling Conn would know her, and perhaps have a soft spot for her, as she's about ten years younger.

And I'm fine with this thief business; I just have to talk to Kyle a bit.

Accepted! Enjoy mucking about on the board, commie pinko. :P