Fariel awoke in a grove, owing it to the beating he received by thugs or so called guards of Qarth, the capital city of Antrafia. His body was a whole spectrum of colours ranging from yellow to red, to blue, to purple and to black. He had made a name for himself in the whole of Qarth as a scoundrel, thief, gambler and most importantly an assassin, the city’s watch was ever watchful of him.

The nobles didn’t dare say his name in fear of bringing him to their doorstep. The guards futilely tried catching him for his crimes, for he had an interesting inborn ability to shapeshift into anyone, so no one knew his true face, this ability of his helped him evade the executioner’s sword time and time again.

But here he was lying in a grove beaten black and blue by guards who had no idea of who he was. On any other occasion he would have stayed laying there for a little while longer because of his terrible hangover, but today was different.

He had just finished dealing with one of the better paying contracts on a local merchant and he had to get to the contractor for the bounty on the man’s head. He fumbled quickly to his feet and into the depths of labyrinthine city he went. Through the winding and bending streets he made his way to the his destination. He quickly arrived at the doorstep of the Half-Moons inn, the base of his operations, most crooks had brawn instead of a good brain, but not Fariel.

He was a mastermind at having an alibi as to how he had acquired the huge influxes of silver drachens on rare occasions such as this one and this was it, his inn. His father was an innkeeper and his mother a barmaid, so he knew how things worked in the world of bars, inns and whorehouses. His safe haven was always full to brim with low-born citizens of the realm and high-born alike, the trick was simple of having such different people in one place.

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He had one of the best bards in the whole of Haela in his inn at least once a fortnight practice her trade, before she went to the royal court to entertain the emperor and his empress. She was a strange lass, she knew Fariel’s true face and knew him since he was a snot nosed brat, she knew his trade all too well. though that never seemed to bother her, which confused Fariel yet gave him assurance, that he could trust her.

As Fariel stepped through the door, he saw his regulars drowning their sorrow in cheap whisky and beer. Yet one man stuck out of the regulars as sore thumb. He was dressed in plain clothes with a burgundy cloak to complement the attire and to show he was a powerful man.

Fariel strode towards him with a sheepish smile and stuck of his hand waiting for his payment for the slaughter of the merchant. The man eyed him with a suspicious gaze but reluctantly parted with his drachens for it would be suicide to try and cheat a scoundrel like Fariel.

"If it really pains you that much to part with your coin, then you shouldn’t have put a bounty on your nemesis’ head,- said Fariel with a disdainful glint in his eyes."

"I...I… thought it would make my life easier financially, but it seems it got so much more complicated with this fiasco on my hands now!"

"Well, my advice is simple: forget he ever existed and anonymously send his family money from time to time, just so you don’t feel as guilty as you are," simply replied Fariel.

The man heard Fariels advice, slowly nodded and made his way to the exit. After the man left Fariel made his way to his private quarters. He poured himself some well aged bourbon and started reading his old journal, before he acquired his power of shapeshifting. Back then he was just a lowly thief with a bad reputation.

He used to steal everything and anything even from those who had nothing themselves, he called it survival of the fittest. But in reality he was honing his skills, which he knew he would have to depend on in the future…