Sharatan Reveur, a swashbuckler from Qeynos. She was the most common, ordinary woman you would have found wandering the streets of the illustrious city, and she knew it. She had no horrible background story to go with her heritage, she had no deep dark secrets buried in her closet (these days it seemed that everyone and their mount was a vampire), she didn’t have any outstanding warrants to her name (that she knew of, at least). She was quiet, kept to herself, and preferred it that way for the most part. Sure there was the odd time where she had peered into the Lion’s Mane Inn and wished that it were her at those tables bustling full of activity, but she knew deep down that after an hour or two of the attention she would grow bored. She spent long hours at the Raven Mythic, an inn that many from Norrath frequented. She sat alone in the center of the room and listened to the going-ons of everyone else around her while none paid her any attention and she was content with that. Content to listen and to learn.

Her parents were wealthy merchants who earned their living in North Qeynos, happily married for over forty years the couple still made people sick with their adoration of each other. Sharatan had no brothers or sisters to speak of, her parents had been satisfied with their one child. Secretly her father had hopped that Sharatan would want to get into the family business, but when she showed absolutely no interest in numbers (or selling things, or interacting with the public) he had accepted  her own decision to visit the local scout guild and move from there.

This early morning she was outside in Elddar Grove, training at the monk dojo. She often spent long hours here moving silently with her daggers strapped to her hips. She moved quietly through her training stances, trying to obtain the sense of flow and smoothness that she saw other swashbucklers move with. She bounced deftly from the balls of her feet up onto her toes, her arms brandished above her head in an imposing move. A grind stretched from ear to ear, after all how could she not smile when she was doing something she loved so much. The only activity she saw this early morning was Slipps, a ratonga, moving from store to store handing out pamphlets about the upcoming Festival of Unity. This would be Sharatan’s first time at the festival, and she was more then a little excited about it. In fact it was all she could think about (besides her training of course) for the past few weeks. She was sure she would meet some interesting people there, and have a fantastic time. After all, what could go wrong?

(( Every so often I like to post a roleplay story about my characters, I do play on Antonia Bayle after all! Sharatan is my 83 swashbuckler who I have been working on as of late. I’m always looking to mentor and do smaller things in game, so if you’re looking for some dps, please don’t hesitate to send me a tell! I am really enjoying playing something that is not support or a healer, it’s very different then my usual branch of character, and coming up with a background story for Sharatan is just a pleasure. As always, happy gaming, no matter where you find yourself! ))


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