[D6, MN, Closed] Shadows Seeking Kin

This has been Narrator approved

Whispers and words spoken among the peasantry speak of an unknown man leaping into the fires of the inn to save a stranger. That very same man disappearing as quickly as he came.

Rumors started circulating around;
who was he, why was he in the fire, and what did he get out of it? More questions and less answers seemed to flow in the minds of the people. The rumors and the details fogging up the minds of all who heard and kept hearing about the fire, the fire, the fire.

The rumors started talking on a life of their own, no armor, simple peasent's clothing, rushing in to same some noble, what kind of fool does that they thought. Well if it was wearing that must mean he was one no? or was he hiding who he was?

More questions and less answers.
The rumors spoke to a inner fire in some, a spark, a chance. The fire was a sign, Battle Valley and all it's ill history was not the place for those seeking fulfillment, for a future. And in this individual they saw a chance to meet someone who had forsaken the squalor of battle valley and forged their own path, one they liked, one where they had their own motives, their own views, their own destinies.

It's interesting then that the people that gripped onto the rumors of this man were the very scum that littered Battle Valley. No rapers, no serial killers. None of that ill nonsense. The scum which look for their next meal and for their next thrill rather then for their next obsession or their next victim.

Crooks, Thieves, Bag-women and con artists. What skills they possessed came to their arts, Silent, Agile, and with Eyes like Hawks. Each one had their own specialty, what individuals don't. But they all played the shadow very very well.

It then makes sense why Shadows would admire one who leaped into the light and came out as dark as ever.

A group of these shadows came together to find this Shadowmaster;
Spreading rumors of their own.
And these rumors made the rounds. "
The Shadows await the Shadow who entered the flames"

These rumors made their rounds and made them to that very man.

And so he came out to where the shadows were said to wait, out in the country, observing and watching for signs of a trap.
Instead, He found three crooks, three people who had lost their way.
And in them he found what he'd been looking for:

Tenacity, Dedication, Ruthlessness.
Desperation and Poverty Tends to create extremes, and these three were gifted with the resolve to achieve useful extremes.


"
Silent"
Winchell Bugs: Burglar and blackmailer, his trade of incriminating evidence led him to the ire of one too many nobles in the Stormlands, Figured he wouldn't be much trouble if he couldn't speak, suffice it to say, Winchell doesn't much like the saying "
Cat's got your tongue?"
He got his apparently, word tells the plierman who took his tongue got a length of steel sticking out his own, and most of his throat with it. Somber, Sadistic, Simple

Lisbeth Weaver: Crime in many ways has it's origins out of desperation. Such was the case for one Lisbeth, daughter to a pauper weaver who had quite the gambling addiction, Lisbeth was sold off to cover his debt. From that point until she first started maturing she spent on the decks of ships plying their trade between Essos and Westereos. She recalls going as far as the summer isles once, though she couldn't remember much past that. The Men of that ship were traders and gamblers and smugglers and con-men, and she learned several things from them, that is to say, when she could sneak away from her slave's work. When she couldn't ... well she's got more then her own share of scars. Scars telling a story learning to hid, learning to steal, and learning to stab. Curt, Observant, Cheeky

Thurmond Mallar: About as close as you'll get to an Iron Islander without the propensity for raiding and Slaving. Thurmond doesn't like to mention much about his home or why he left, strange thing is as it is. You pay the iron price and you keep what you get, and from what Thurmond seemed to misunderstand was what the iron price was. It's no surprise then that he's missing a hand, the surprise is that he didn't lose the whole arm. he's got a crude fist in it's place now, cheap wood and scrape metal shaped into a hook. Thurmond Mallar... what kinda of Iron islander is he anyway? Large, Jolly, Inappropriate

[OOC: the shadows come to play my lord...

Excellent example of how using glory for VP looks in character]