Kelion Ni'anniri (Greyfeather)
He favors the dark grey, green, and black garb of a highwayman. He wears black feathers on his deep gray cloak and attached to his ponies mane. He carries a long sword and a Drow longknife strapped to his leg. He also carries a giant black bow he calls “The Death Dealer” that fires arrows as big around as a man’s finger. He sports thick hardened hide armor that shows signs of more than one tight scrape, and also some worn leather boots that have seen untold miles. His face is young looking, but his eyes have a peculiar old sadness to them. He has dark circles under his eyes and a icy cold 100 yard stare. He’s developed a pasty complexion from years of alcoholism and he has a voice that sounds like 9 miles of bad road. Too many nights either in the worst taverns in the kingdom our out under the sky in all manner of bad weather has turned what should be a young elf about to be in the prime of his life into a road weary, sad sack of bones.
He rides a sickly looking grey spotted nag that he forgot the name of years ago.
He’s fond of gambling and alcohol.
Kelion Ni’anniri ended up in Northallow a month or so ago. He can’t exactly remember the recent order of events that led him to be here. He’d just finished a job with some scabs down in the village of Ten Rivers.. They went out to celebrate..
He came-to, tied to that miserable nag of a horse, blood on his hands, and all of the loot from that job he pulled was gone…
He had a note pinned to his chest.
Sorry ta leave ya like this K, but yu done made a helluva mess back thar in
Ten Rivers. I know that fella was cheatin…. but yu didn’t have to cut his kidz ear off, an killt hiz dag like that just cuz he pulled that blade… a man has a rite ta defend hisself..
We left ur stuff on that piece o’ shit nag ov yrs, but we’re keepin tha gold frum tha last job, fer our troublz and ta pay tha man’s widow for her dag, her kids ear, and ta bury her man…
We don’t want no trublez from yu, but there is onlee so much we can put up with K.
Yur over tha line.. That poor dag din’t dezerve ta get whut he got…
We gotsta part wayz partner.. Best of luck ta yu an that uglee horse ov urs.
I tied u in tha saddle so u wouldn’t fall out. There’s sum mor whiskey in tha saddle bags fur ur headache.
Good Luck K, Pleze don’t come after us. We don’t want no mor truble..
Kelion has been lurking about Northallow a month or so. He’s pulled a couple of small robberies to stay fed, but he’s hungry for more and he’s heard of a gang in town that’s kind of moving on up here in Northallow. He wants to be where the action is…