Daniel Collins

Name: Daniel Collins

Age: 15

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Hair: Greasy dark brown locks hang down to his jaw in the front, and reach midway down his neck. His hair is tattered and frayed; it is unkempt and in need of a cut. His bangs hang over his eyes and mouth, and he constantly brushes these to the left side of his face.

Eyes: Hazel

Weight: 117 pounds

Height: 5’7

Weapon: An average iron dagger of no spectacular appeal. It was stolen off of a former accomplice.

Armor: N/A

Strengths: Skilled in thievery; able to steal a heavy purse without notice of the owner or anyone else around him. He also has a hand for disguises, a skill he picked up while hiding from the law. He is also capable in fist fights, and skilled in picking simple locks with his lock picking equipment.

Weakness: He has an affinity for items of value and rarity, often giving up on important tasks to obtain these treasures. He is also a little below average physical strength, and of no use in an armed combat situation; he has no training in the use of melee weapons.

Appearance: Daniel is a skinny, dirty rogue dressed in a grimy wool undershirt covered by a cheap brown leather jacket. He wears a pair of black wool pants and leather steel toe boots. He has a round skinny face augmented by his long tattered brown hair. His cheekbones are high and he possesses a sharp nose. He also has a small, blue tattoo of the outline of a fox on the back of his left hand. It is a symbol of a local thieving guild that Daniel belongs to.

Personality: Daniel is an overconfident person, taking risks that would normally be deemed too precarious to acquire what he wants; however, this confidence is earned. He has numerous times "stolen the eggs right from under the chicken" without anyone noticing. He is hesitant to give others his trust, because many ‘friends’ have broken their word and double-crossed him for their profit. All in all he is a likable person, but veiled under his friendly demeanor is a fox, ready to pounce on a profit at the expense of another.

Biography:
A disheveled woman knocked upon the abbey’s doors. It was past midnight, and the church bells had clanged the curfew call only minutes before. Finally an archetype nun answered the knock and the heavy oak doors creaked open.
"What troubles you?" asked the nun. She glanced at the woman’s swollen belly and gained a glimmer of understanding. "Come in child," she beseeched the woman. She drew her in off of the city’s cobblestone streets and led her into a private room.
"I’m going to have a child," the woman whispered, and she put her hand into the nun’s. "Will you help me?"
"Of course dear," replied the nun. She ran through the abbey and gathered up two sisters and the supplies they would need.
After a long ordeal that crept into the early hours of dawn, the woman held her child in her arms. He was washed and lay wrapped in a towel, crying at the candlelight. "Please," the mother began, "I want you to take him. He would have a better life here," she implored. "I cannot have my child growing up out there," She nodded out the window towards the awakening city’s streets.
The nuns convened for a moment and agreed to the woman’s request. "Of course," they all replied.
With a tear in her eye, the mother thanked them.


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"Wake up!" Sister Tara’s voice reverberated through the attic.
Daniel and the other orphans got out of bed and proceeded to get dressed. He looked left to right, and right to left, and then straight ahead. His roommates aged from ten to fifteen; all of them had the same dreary look upon their faces. The closest bed to his was inhabited by Dan’s good friend Jacob Ratsen. They were both thirteen years old, and had been friends since as long as they could remember.
"Morning Rats," Dan said to the stocky, blonde boy, using his affectionate nickname.
"And morning to you too Dan," he replied as they started to head towards the washroom. "We get to go to the market today, right?" he asked.
With a glimmer in his eye, Daniel replied yes.
The rest of their morning went fairly quickly; they ate a breakfast of porridge and sausage, and did their chores around the abbey. When noon’s arrival rang out of the tower bells, Sister Tara inspected all of the ten boys, shuddering if a shirt was not tucked in correctly.
Finally she walked the boys to the market. "Now I don’t want to have to chase a single one of you hooligans at all today," she commanded, "So when the bells strike Five o’clock you are to all meet me at this very spot." She only had to say it once; not a single one of them felt like washing all the abbey’s dishes for two weeks, the standard punishment. "Now go," she finished.
They all skittered into the bustling crowd in groups of threes and twos. Rats and Dan ran towards the main square of the market, looking for a bench. When they finally procured their seats, they sat around and watched the people walk by. "Good old Market day in Marigold," drawled Dan, "Where the pockets are fat....... and their owners dumb," he smiled.
Rats laughed. They’d been doing this for a long time, each time getting more and more better at it. They were pickpockets, and the city’s best - in their eyes at least. Rats began to boast. "Fair maidens, Rich dandies, Old ladies, and Fat gentleman," he started, "What’s theirs will soon be mine! No pigeon can escape my clutches, for I am the hawk of the market, feared by all who carry fat purses!"
It was Dan’s turn to laugh, silently clapping for his friends outstanding speech. "Well, Hawk of the market, shall we grab one of your pigeons?"
Rats nodded, and they were off.
After several lifts, they gathered their winnings together, walked to a back alley and counted it out. "Looks like ten coppers and a silver," smiled Dan. He bit the silver coin to make sure it was real. Gladdened by the large take, Dan let out a loud whoop.
"That’ll line our pockets for awhile," smiled Rats. Just then the bells of the nearby abbey struck the half hour. "I think we should start heading back," Rats directed.
Dan nodded and they started back for the meeting place. As They walked through the crowd, Dan noticed a well dressed, portly man walking towards them. Hanging from his belt was a small bag that was packed full of coin. Dan glanced at Rats, but the blonde boy shook his head. He pointed down the street, and about ten yards away from them stood two city guards.
But Dan didn’t care; this prize was worth it. He motioned for Rats to follow him, but the boy just shook his head again.
Alone, Dan walked towards the portly man. He pretended to look in another direction, and bumped into the fat man. "Sorry," he choked out as his fingers swiftly undid the purse strings. But he wasn’t swift enough.
The man grabbed his arm. "Thief!" he shouted, waiting as the guards rushed over. They took Dan from the man and held him there.
"This braggart was trying to steal my purse!" yelled the man.
The guard holding Dan looked down at him and recognized him. "This ‘un’s one them abbey boys," he said, holding fast to the wriggling boy. "I s’pose we take him to the consta-" His breath was cut short as Dan kneed the man in the groin.
Taking his chance, Dan ran towards the most densely packed section of the market place. He heard the guards blow the whistle behind him, so he ducked behind a vegetable carrying wagon. He then broke for the slums of Marigold, hoping he would get away. And he did.
Dan stopped to catch his breath in a darkening alleyway. Light was fading from both the world, and his future. He thought long about what to do. He knew he could not go back to the abbey - the guards had recognized him - but hiding in the slums did not seem like such a good idea either.
He made a determination to sleep in the alleyway he was in tonight, and then take tomorrow as it came.


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"Come on," urged the boy to Dan’s left. "We haven’t got all night,"
"I’m going as fast as I can," Dan replied. "If you’d stop ruining my concentration, this door would’ve already been open by now." He concentrated on the lock, delicately inserting another thin wire into the keyhole. At last the lock clicked open, and the three thieves entered the darkened house.
"Close the curtains," commanded the third boy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a match and a small wax candle. He lit the candle and the room became dimly illuminated.
Daniel, now a young adult of fifteen glanced at his companions. The first thief wore a cap over his pale shaved head; he was garbed in black wools and surveyed the house in soft moccasins which quieted his step. He looked to be in his mid teens. The other, older member of the group held the candle aloft. He had mousy brown hair that hung just underneath his ears, and was similarly clothed in black. He looked to be in his early twenties. They both sported a tattoo of a slinking blue fox on their right hands.
Daniel glanced at his own tattoo; it symbolized that he was part of ‘The Takers’, a local group of thieves. He reminisced about the day he had joined the band of rogues as he looted the house. The very first night he had slept in the alley, a group of tough looking fellows had kicked him awake. "Search him," one of them had said, as another began to pat the boy down, looking for anything of value. They found the silver and the coppers, and took that, and began to walk away.
But then Dan had cried, "I’m useful!"
So the next day they sent him out into the crowd to pick more pockets. He came back with a fair amount each time, and so they accepted him and gave him a place to sleep at the guildhouse, an old, abandoned storage facility.
They had taught him how to pick locks, how to get around unnoticed, and where the best places to hide were. His thievery skills drastically improved over the two years he had spent with them. He’d never even given a second thought to returning to the abbey after his first few days with them.
And now he was, for the first time, breaking into a house.
"Find anything, Walt?" he stage-whispered to his first companion. The older one stood at the door, standing guard. Dan then turned to this one and said, "He better ‘ave, eh, Paul?"
Walt whispered back, "Yeah, I found the coin; it was right where Andy said it would be." He dragged a large satchel into the room. Coins jingled as he lifted it onto his shoulder. "All right, men," he said, "let’s be on our way."
They quietly snuk out of the building and returned to the guildhouse. Paul, the oldest stepped up to the back door and knocked once, then twice, and gave another quick knock. He repeated this two more times and the door opened.
The three of them walked past the main entrance, where some beds were full of snores and groans, and others empty, and headed towards a back room. They threw their latest take on a pile of treasure and returned to the main room. Each made their ways to their bunks and slept the night away; each rested a little better if they hadn’t had made their profit.
Dan woke early that morning to feel a knife at his throat.
Walt stood over him, blade in hand, and told him to stay quiet. He commanded Dan to empty his pockets. Walt seized up the shiny coins. No one else had awaken yet, and some of his allies in the group were missing from their beds; either they were still pulling a job, or out drinking away their take.
But it didn’t matter now; all that mattered was survival.
Walt started to speak, "I like you Dan, but you’re just not pulling your weight. So here’s what’s going to happen. Either you stay in Marigold and die here, or you disappear and leave your take to me. If you choose the second, which I hope you do, you’re gone from this city before the sun rises."
Dan looked hard into the thief’s eyes and stared at him for a long moment. He didn’t really want a quarrel with anyone, even if it meant giving up his take. He’d rather live poor than die rich. And he knew if he stayed he’d be hunted. Dan had friends, but Walt had more.
"All right," answered Daniel. "I’ll leave. But before I go," he started to explain to the thief. "Before I go," His fist landed directly between Walt’s eyes, crumpling him to the ground. He grabbed the dagger off of his former friend and went to the back room. He grabbed as much money as his pack could carry and headed out of the building.
He reached Marigold’s western gate a half hour later. With one last look upon his only home, he turned onto the road, and followed the beaten path.

Looks fine. *approved*