Gender: Male
Race: Human
Occupation: Uneducated Homeless Street Beggar
Caste: Lower Caste, inherited from parents back in land of Oerth.
Age: While he's not entirely sure, it is 24. He has seen twenty seasons, but in Sigil he doesn't know how to measure years.
- [i]Since birth he was already one of lower caste, never given chance to raise in status. His parents had been commoners whom lost their property in great summer fires and were degraded into lower caste, the scum of Nyronds Kingdom. Everything was taught either by himself or willing other lower caste. He has streetwise, but proper education lacks. Talents of writing or reading, etiquettes, ethics and only barely sense of morals. Stealing he didn't see as terribly wrong thing, it was means to survive. Lower Caste weren't hired into any works, Lower Caste wasn't even allowed to look up at the upper caste. They were expendable, the greatest treasures that had been seen were perhaps a single gold piece which is quickly spent into luxury of warm meal. Why did world not see pity to these people? They didn't need to. They had secured lives, proper income, and barely enough to pay their own. It had always been such, some rare gave pity, but even rarer gave anything to help. It was easier to close eyes on them. The only times Lower Caste were noticed was when one of them disrupted the established order, be it by stealing or being claimed to have murdered someone. This created hate and barrier between "decent folk" and "Lower caste". All the lower caste had to be dangerous, deranged thieving murderers. We live in time of simple beliefs after all. Denm lived in the streets, hardly any shelter, throughout years. Upper caste couldn't even think one could survive over winter without proper shelter, it may not have been easy and many died to diseases, but not Denm. Will to live was greater than giving up. Life was never easy despite what the beliefs were, food was scarce, there was no money. Sometimes one had to eat leftovers of other people. It was time to look for better life finally. Something Kingdom of Nyrond couldn't offer and through unsuspected means he managed to get to the wondrous city of Sigil. Things seemed to start well, if only he had struct to better Ward than the Hive at first. Years passed and the life had not changed... occasionally groups of thugs tried to either take "protection money" or recruit him... he tried to steer clear. Sometimes horrors not meant for human mind crawled through the night, causing him still occasionally to wake up from the sleep heavily disrupted. His only comfort the cheap drug called Devil Weed which he smoked regularly. It had always been that way, he knew of nothing better.[/i] [/li]