Phyrrus said:
With a good backstory of what would bring a reclusive whisper gnome to live in a big city, I will allow it. I know with all of their bonuses that they become the perfect rogues, so spin a good yarn, and I will allow it, otherwise the halfling/elvish rogue is all yours.
I know next to nothing about Greyhawk, so please feel free to make any suggestions.
Background of Flanadd[SBLOCK]It had been a long year. A long year far from home. And a hard year. It seemed almost a lifetime ago that Flanadd of clan Falath had first ventured from his homeland in pursuit of a rogue halfling. The halfling went by the name of Rosco Hilltopple, but that was probably a simple alias. The worst part was the shame of it. The shame of a clan of Whisper Gnomes taken by a simple con and by a halfling. It was too much to bear. The clan's loss of a family heirloom was a disaster and disgrace, and they'd be the laughing stock of the families should word get out. Such was the shame that the deed was never spoken of again after the initial days.
It occurred during the celebrations for the matriach's 444th birthday - a momentous event. Many of the gnomes blamed themselves for the loss, citing that they should have seen it coming, or mentioned something they thought odd. But Rosco, or whatever his name really was, had been made welcome and had stayed for some time - it seems to make his plans and ingratiate himself; for he had, as Flanadd well knew, as he was one of many taken by the charismatic halfling.
As a young and impetuous gnome, Flanadd's blood boiled at the affront and the loss. Eventually he and his friend Skorlun Daergl swore an oath to each other to track down Rosco and see justice (and retribution) done.
'Twas a year ago that the friends set out with barely a word to anyone. And initially their hopes were high in returning to the clan as heroes. But as the weeks and months wore on, their morale subsided, and success looked less and less sure. Whoever Rosco was, he was elusive and left little sign of his passage - a glimpse by someone here, a victim there - just little things that a Whisper Gnome would recognise. And no sign of the heirloom either - so not even an option to steal it back or even buy it.
As time wore on, and each village and town began to look more and alike, funds ran out, and the friends were reduced to escalating their petty thievery to survive. But their luck ran out and a nasty encounter with the town guard left Skorlon dead and Flanadd with a badly wounded arm.
That was 2 weeks ago. The arm, now mostly healed thanks to a friendly priest, but a heart still heavy with the loss of his friend - particularly as he couldn't save him or even bury him without giving himself up (and he knew the penalty for that). Now Flanadd stands outside a bar, desperation increasing with no money, and no will to return home to an uncertain welcome. He licks his lips, wishing for the taste of a decent ale, and maybe a slice of warm bread, but more than anything else - a future![/SBLOCK]
