The Isle of Dread
Male half-celestial tiefling rogue
(For stats, see google dock PDF)
Unless he were wearing anything less than a high-collared coat and hat, it would be difficult to mistake J’zar for anything other than a Tiefling. His bony, angular physique is nothing that any human could not be born with, but hints subtly to the traditional build of a demon. He is short and thin but nimble, with quick, darting movements that come with the easy grace and nimble balance of someone who has been relying on sleight of hand for years.
His clothing is dark, travel-stained, but well tailored, impossible to mistake for a raggedy cloak of a poor traveller. Should he remove it, the exquisitely fine links of his chainmail can be glimpsed, light as a feather and shimmering with a milky translucence and soft, hallowed gleam of celestial armor. Two fine slits in the back allow passage of his white feathery wings, tucked small enough to remain hidden beneath his cloak should he need to hide them, and extending eight feet across when unfurled for flying or gliding. Several sharp knives are strapped to his sides and legs, some sheathed, some simply tucked into his belt.
Like most Tieflings, J’zar was a problem child. His mother, a priestess in the service of Sarenrae, was cast out of the temple when it was discovered her son was the offspring of a demon, and was forced into service as a scullery maid for the local governor to make ends meet. J’zar fought often as a child; and though most times he was not the aggressor, he gave into the dark whispers of his demonic heritage to provoke the situation.
Despite his otherworldly origins, J’zar’s mother has never told him what happened. She would simply smile, and tell him that the past belongs in the past, and that she loves her son no matter who, or what, he is.
He began as most thieves do: filching a loaf of hot bread from a market stand, slicing a tempting, dangling coinpurse from an out-oftowner gawking at a public show, fishing coppers out of donation boxes inside various temples. His first big break was when he teamed up with another outcast, his half-elf friend Sylar, to break into a merchant’s house at night. Unfortunately for J’zar, his activities had caught the eye of the local thieve’s guild some time ago, and when the pair crept into the house at half-past midnight, they were met with two shadowy characters lounging about in easy chairs, waiting for them.
They were given a choice: Stop thieveing forever, lose their hands, or join with the thieve’s guild and pay their dues. Shaken, Sylar took the first choice, but J’zar was undaunted and boasted he was good enough to join, and the next day he was a footpad in the
The thieve’s guild is an organization like any other, when it comes down to it: you have your good thieves, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. You have your vile thieves, stealing for profit, revenge, or even just for fun. The first rule of the thieve’s guild is that you pay your dues, take jobs, and don’t hassle your fellow thieves about their personal reasons for doing things. Obey the charter, and you’re free to do just about anything you like. This means the guild is populated, largely, by regular Joes: carrying the same sort of prejudices that the rest of the city hold. T’jar might be a guild brother, but he’ll never be equal in their eyes. He is given the worst sort of jobs: clean-up, tedious stake-outs, collections, and distraction duty. He has few personal contacts. The church actively hates him. The government won’t give him a break. He has no friends on the inside.
He is, to put it bluntly, ready for a change of scenery.
J’zar is a medium to low member of the thieve’s guild. About 16-17 in human years, untrusted to be placed on a real assignment.
Likes to think he is a badass. Talks and acts like a badass. But raised by his mother to be a good person, and has a soft spot for kids and the downtrodden and underpriveledged.
After a near-death experience in Sassarine, has taken on a celestial quality, which he is still coming to grips with.