Abraham Marr

Abraham Marr

The Gentleman Thief Abraham Marr

Languages	Common, Thieves Cant
Species	Variant Human
Gender	Male
Height	5' 11"

Abraham Marr is a man of much travel across the Badlands, ranging from coach stop to coach stop all across Pteris. He caries with him a fiddle case, a bow and quiver of arrows, and several belts with all sorts of pouches for his thief equipment.

Physical Appearance

He's of an average build, as it makes his light fingers all the more quick. He prefers to wear niceish clothes, favoring greens and blues to stand out a little bit against the colors of the sand, but not against the shade of the inside of a homestead or cave. He has long curly hair of a darker black or even moderately green color

Personality

Is your character social? A drunk? Laid back?

History

Abraham was born to relatively poor parents in Brightwater, a little town nestled in the shadow of the Fiddlehead Mountains. His mother was a kind, gentle woman who always sang him songs, kissed his scrapes and cuts, and held him when he was scared. His father was always the sort to be tough, but loving. Taught him right from wrong, how to be a gentleman, and how to keep a good reputation wherever you go. His early childhood was much the same as everyone else's, save for his knack for playing the fiddle. Abraham fell in love with the instrument, the way the bow moved across the strings, the way it got people moving, and the way people were mesmerized by it. He loved playing for town parties, and dances, and really just playing. He spent a lot of his late childhood and early teenage years just performing for people. Things changed when his parents started to get sick. Abraham was about 14 when his mother started having a rather consistent cough, at first it wasn’t terrible, just ever present. Then his father got the same cough. Over the next few weeks, both of them became much worse. They started having terrible night sweats, coughing fits, and eventually they became just too tired to fight any longer. Abraham poured all that he could into trying to save them. The town doctor was paid with every ounce of gold and silver the family had. He played every gig, started work at the store, and tried herbal remedies. But there was no stopping what was coming. Death came to the house of Abraham Marr, and he collected a heavy toll. In the night, his mother was taken first. She looked so at peace in the morning, Abraham always thought to himself. He buried her next to the family home. Within a week, his father was taken too. After burying them both, he looked to the house he grew up in and it suddenly felt big, and certainly empty. He worked until his hands showed bone, played until his bowstrings were snapped and frayed, and again could not prevent what was coming. The bankers, the greedy slime they were, foreclosed the family ranch. They took everything from him, without so much as a care for what he would do. These men, who paid him to play, who knew his face and name, kicked him to the wind. He took to the streets, surviving on the handouts of family friends, sleeping in barns, and eating what little scraps people gave him. The shame, the embarrassment was too much for Abraham, and so he turned to the life that his father always loathed. He started to simply take what he thought he was owed, often right from under the noses of his victims.

What started as simple pick pocketing, all with a warm smile and some good old back country charm, soon grew into more…broad skills. He started with a few extra scraps of food from the events he played. Then, a candlestick, maybe a fork or other silver thing he could fit in his pockets. He would slip the bracelet off of a lady while kissing her rings, and a gentleman’s wallet while sliding past to get another drink. He became good, and greed soon took hold of him. He began his burglaring career by taking a few small goods from some of the more affluent tradesmen in Brightwater. Not enough that they’d know it was gone and certainly not enough to hurt their livelihoods, but enough that the gigs he played the rest of the week were extra money for him. When the waters around him warmed, as people started realizing there was a thief around, he scaled back his operations. The wells of Brightwater would soon dry up, as the people were hard working folks he didn’t want to completely ruin their livelihoods. But, as one last parting gift to the wealthy men who lived beyond the limits of the town, he wanted to have the biggest score he could imagine in such a tiny town. He broke the home of the bankman that took his family homestead away. He pilfered every ounce of silver and gold he could fit in a bag. The candlesticks, serving trays, Jefferson cups. Anything of value, and was easily moved, was taken by the fiddler. He leaves just as quietly as he arrived, and with a little help from some underground companions, turns the items into straight cash. Cash he delivered to the people of Brightwater, as a repayment for his crime, and their care for him all these years. But it was time to move to deeper waters, deeper pockets, and new scores. The taste of thievery was in his hands, and he was relishing it. As he travelled from stop to stop, little town to little town, he made sure to keep up his usual gamble. Just nicking small items from passengers, the luggage, and the drivers. His charm carried him along the way, and he always had enough coin to get him to the next stop. He eventually found himself in much larger cities and frontier towns, and he fell into his element. He started at the regular spots, playing his fiddle in taverns and saloons and slipping things from the customers. He was getting good at it, really good at it, and soon found himself in a little bit of a pickle. He was good enough to trick the regular customers and drunks, but not the thieves guilds. He was approached one day by a few men and women who saw what he was doing. They gave him a choice, or rather a threat disguised as choices, to join the guild or they’d dump him without a hand in front of the sheriff. He, of course, joined the guild and they helped to hone his skills a little more. They started by focusing on his sleight of hand. A skill, they said, that can be taught. His charm however, that was all on him. The next several months were spent with some of the best thieves and criminals in the region, just learning more and more about the craft. How to move, how to properly misdirect, how to master the breaking into and escaping from buildings. He loved every bit of it, all the people he met, all the music he got to play when they were drinking and hanging out. A real brotherhood of thieves that he felt like he belonged to, and he felt like he had a family for the first time since he lost his parents. He grows more with these thieves and criminals, getting better and better at his new found profession.” He also becomes reputable as the Gentleman Thief among his companions there. His jobs were numerous, and each more bold than the last. But While he rode the high of getting good, it came crashing down on top of him one fateful night.

He had done what he always does when it comes to breaking into a home. Not a trace going in, not a sound, no sign anyone was ever there. He was picking through the passageway from the main entrance when he heard them. He heard the footsteps of someone coming towards him. He tried looking for somewhere, anywhere to hide, but the hallway was barren of large furniture. He slowly back pedaled, trying to get to his entrance but saw that there was no escape. He watched the man, clearly armed with some sort of club creep closer in the dim light. He stood still, reaching for his dagger on his hip slowly. The man looked up, seeing the figure before him, and started to call out. Abraham, without thinking, thrust forward with his blade. In the dark, he wasn’t sure what he was hitting, but he only wanted to cut the man. Only wanted to get him to back off enough so he could escape. But his dagger plunged deep into his chest, with the air being forced from his lungs. He pulled back, watching the man fall, and his body hit the floor. The scream that followed alerted him to the two other figures in the hall, with a candle revealing what Abraham had just done. The man was older, and it was clear that his heart had been nicked by Abraham’s blade. The two figures were his family, his wife and young daughter. The fear in their eyes has been burned into his mind to this day. He thought about his own family, what he missed most, and the man that taught him to always do right. Abraham dropped the bags of things he was stealing, turned and fled. He ran from the town entirely, just getting away from his terrible deed. He wandered the sands after his murder, for a long time swearing off any and all thievery, deception, or sleight of hand. He couldn’t fathom the idea of doing it again. It left a foul taste in his mouth when he thought about it. He migrated from oasis to oasis, druid conclave to druid conclave, never speaking much of his past. Just that he was a traveller of the sands, wanting food and water to continue his travels. It was his new life for the longest time, until he realized he needed to tap into those skills again to survive. He never stole from anyone that he didn’t think could recover, or who was nice to him in these trying times. But when he was in towns, in saloons, he went back to work. While he was rusty, he regained some of his skill set again, and became another musician in the bars that became a little wealthier than he should have been from the generous tips he was getting from those that were around. While he felt that the living was good enough to continue on, he kept moving from these towns. The wastes became his safe haven, and eventually he came into the territories of some very powerful clans.

While he had no quarrel with the likes of the Federation, or the Scrappers, or any of them really, he wasn’t really keen on joining any of them outright. But he heard they were gathering at some Arboretum, and made his way there. He wanted to see what types of people would be here and their various reasons for being there. He wanted to see if maybe he could find what he had at home, or in the guild, or maybe something new entirely. So far, it has proven good for him. Lenore, the follower of Vela has been a wonderful singing companion. Gloria plays just as beautifully as anyone he’s had the pleasure of joining. Gobbo seems nice enough, even if they are chaos incarnate sometimes. And Himo is a good conversationalist. He likes it here, and hopes to find that family he was missing for so long.

Languages

Examples include Common, Elvish, TwitchTalk, Thieves Cant, or French

Powers and Abilities

You don't have to give it all away. Just let us know what you're known to do in battle.

Attacks and Weapons 

Your favorite weapons.

X Add worldbuilding credits now!