Arryn Hegedus, only known as Fleet-Foot by the local night-watch.Gender: "I'm a young gentleman, at least that's what mum always said..."
(Male)Race: "My mum was a Light-Elf... And my dad, well, um.... He was a Dwarf..."
(Light Elf/Hill Dwarf)Affinity: "I don't like the cold..."
Freyja, the women who raised him prayed to her, so he thinks of it as his as well.Faction:
Acrobatics, Subterfuge, Theivery, Education ((Dwarven))Traits:
Arryn looks younger then he is. When the Elven and Dwarven heritage mixed, he came out a bit of a freak, his skin pale like the sand, and his eyes red like blood. He is a albino, with Elven ears, and a shortish stature. Which doesn't make him very strong, but he makes up where he lacks strength, with speed and cunning, his clothing is nicely fitting and comfortable for climbing and sneaking around.
His fingers are tough and hard, from his countless hours of trying to earn money like a normal person, playing a violin on the street corners, but stealing the passerby's coin purse when he gets frustrated or bored. Arryn is slim, not skinny.
His face is a odd mix of both parents, his mother nose and lips, but he has his father's eyes, that form of intellectual gaze that some have. Being half-dwarf, he grows facial hair at an steady rate, something he doesn't like to embrace, and shaves almost every morning to keep it away, but still it grows off his chin and cheeks. His arms are slightly hairy, but silky white, and tends to feel uncomfortable with his arms being bare.is face the colour of peaches, and when he blushes, he looks akin to the fruit.Biography:
Arryn's father was a Dwarven merchant from the north, visiting Veritshire. And his mother was... A Light Elf exotic dancer, who ended up in the with the wrong people in an brothel, with a spa as a front. His father spent the night with her, and was out the door first thing in the morning, heading to the next town to make a profit. And his mother was carrying a future outcast.
When the boy was born, his mother was near to paying her bills. But she had no time to raise Arryn, so she placed him in childcare with a group of Dwarven Gypsy sisters, who educated him as one of their own, showing him the Dwarven language and culture. And giving him a gift he would hold dear to his heart until he died. A fiddle. A beaten, dusty, old piece of wood, with strings that were near to snapping, but the young elf spent hours fixing the instrument, and learned how to play it over the years.
When he was fourteen, he began playing his fiddle on the streets, trying to make a nice bit of coin, and hoping to maybe be let into the inn down the way. A nice bit of coin, and a chance to win over the heart of a blond headed girl who's father ran the joint. But the son of a exotic dancer didn't exactly get him very good reputation in the city, and he soon resorted to bits of Theivery to make money. A coin purse here, a few knives and forks from a merchant there... Easy money.
After a while, he began climbing the buildings of the town, and hiding from guards. He would go through windows in the middle of the night, and steal what he could, before returning to the attic room he had at the tavern his mother now had moved away from, but he didn't leave, it felt like home. During his teens, he briefly dated Salonya Scato. But when he heard rumours of her interacting with other young men in the city, he was depressed more then he was upset. So he let the relationship slowly fade, and didn't have the heart to tell her, letting Salonya just forget about him and move on. And tried to forget about the short time he spent with her.
But he still had a feeling of despair when he saw her walk by the market with another boy, it was a feeling he never shook, no matter how far he stayed away.
He became humble, intelligent, and kind in the day, earning money pickpocketing and collecting spare coin from those willing to throw it his way when he played his instrument. But at night he was a completely different person. Daring, bold, and cunning. And has yet to steal one of the most precious things in Veritshire. Scato's heart. Still smitten with the girl.
And a piece of him wanted to see what was beyond the town, and try his hand at something other then picking locks...Starting Group: