Yaster

[*Cibernadie]

Name: Forgotten
Aliases: Yaster
Gender: Male
Race: Human. Native to Sigil.
Age: Early twenties.
Profession: Former ganger/thug. Currently scavenger.
Languages: Common, Orcish, Gnollish, Goblin.
Accent: Native Sigil.

Physical Information
Height: 5.5
Weight: 132
Body build: Athletic, slightly underweight.
Skin type: Rough, plagued with scars and tattoos.
Hair style: Short. Tied.
Scars: Great number of minor cuts, bruises and slashes across his body.
Tattoos: Several gang tattoos and marks detailing past affiliations and crimes. All concealed under his clothes.
Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] Dark grey. [b]Eyes:[/b] Brown. Purple glow coming and going erratically. [b]Skin:[/b] Street Tan. [/li]

Mental Information
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.
Philosophy: Cautious of the unknown, which is everything around him.
Deity/Beliefs: Every man for themselves.
Personality:

[u]Embittered[/u] [i]Resentful of people flaunting their lives around, having no memory of his own.[/i] [u]Cranky[/u] [i]Prolongued life on the street and constant migraines make for a sour disposition.[/i] [u]Curious[/u] [i]Whenever a conversation happens with a stranger, he orients it to learn more things.[/i] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: Studded leather clothes, wrapped in a baggy hood, both filled with patches and burns.
Habbits/hobbies: Heavy drinker of anything that dulls the occasional migraine. Carries at least three flasks
General Health: Average at best. Could use a bath and some soup.
Weaknesses: His amnesia means he does not know the first thing about anything, which despite his cautious nature, could lead to trickery or manipulation.

[*Cibernadie]

Background (Spoilers)

Yaster was, from the very beginning, just another street urchin. He lived all his youth inside the Orphanage within the Gatehouse, seeing the Sigil's exterior for the first time during one of many attempts to escape his confinement. The open streets, alien residents and the city curving over the horizon enraptured him, and he swore to never again sleep confined under a roof. Taken back to the Gatehouse by the caretakers of the Orphanage more than once, he kept running away over the years until they stopped trying to bring him back.

He grew as a minor but noteworthy thug and ganger, fighting in the dark foggy streets of the Hive that claimed lives like his every cycle. His quick wit, skill with the blade, and growing psionic ability put him slightly above the Hive's food chain, and while never a boss of his own street or band, he had enough renown to claim a name for himself. It is during these years that he gained the tattoos that cover his body, medals to carry and show off. The most noteworthy one would be a tattoo from the Fallen Dabus, a curved blade on his right thigh, obtained during the Dabus' occasional wander through the Hive. Right after getting that one, Yaster attempted to usurp the thugs he worked for, a pair of gnoll twins. He killed them easily, but the rest of the gang kicked him out and beat him to near death instead of making him the new leader, as he hoped. Alone and left in the slags, Yaster decided to gather a band of his own.

His end came when Yaster tried to take over a part of the Undersigil canals for himself as a base of operations from which to raise a gang of his own. After healing his wounds, he returned one night to the Orphanage he grew up in and persuaded several of the older kids he knew to join him, using very embellished tales about his life in the Hive. He used them as cannon fodder to carve through the depths, where he encountered monsters and creatures beyond his worst expectations. Only he made it out alive, caught floating through the ditch outflow of the sewers by the Bleakers that saw him and the children leave. The same caretakers that raised him and the other orphans dragged him to the Gatehouse, and dunked his head on the waters of the Styx river fountain until he stopped struggling.