Ruttiger Caenon

The shadows stirred slightly in the darkened alley. If one closely, he would see the figure of a young man clutching a small knife.
The boy waited, his eyes narrowed toward the entrance of the alley. It was cold. The cobblestones made his bare feet numb, and the wind stung his face. His impassive face changed slightly, his lips curving into a smirk as two larger figures began to walk down the small alley. Instantly, he recognized their faces.
As he heard the clank of their boots, he clutched the small blade in his hand. The knife was short, the blade made of simple tin. Hemp rope was wrapped around the simple wood hilt for a better grip. Noticing the figures had their backs turned, he slowly stepped forward from the shadows.
Gradually, emotion crept into the young man's body -- first, pity -- then rage. He had received almost daily beatings from these two over the past ten years of his life. They had robbed him, mocked him, beat him -- often leaving him bleeding in the alleys and stealing what little change he had found for food.
Silently, the figure lunged forward towards the first boy, stabbing him deeply in the right shoulder. Cursing at missing his opponent's back, he drew back his bloodied blade. Quickly, he slashed his opponent's backside and kicked him to the ground -- all in the span of a few seconds.
The other boy noticed the figure, and a look of surprise flashed across his face. The figure slashed his hand deeply with the knife and then again across his face. Once more, he slashed across his enemy's face, leaving a deep, crisscrossed scar above the eye. The figure quickly kicked the second young man to the ground. The boy's sobbing only gave him more pleasure. He snickered and kicked both of them sharply in the backsides.
Revenge was complete, the young man thought. His enemies where left bleeding and battered in the alley -- much worse than what they had ever done to him. He threw the bloodstained knife into a far corner of the alley and wiped the blood from his hands as he ran off down the side streets of Remath.

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It would be several more months before the young man simply known as 'Ruttiger' would leave the malodorous alleys of Remath. He only had a guess that his mother was one with few morals, a simple dock prostitute. He knew nothing of his father, knowing that he was most likely just a customer. One day, early in his childhood, the beatings started. The two thugs that would constantly beat him had made a name for themselves in the small gangs among the streets.
Hoping to escape any possible harsh legal or other persecution, Ruttiger Caenon escaped Remath by sneaking onboard a trade ship and hiding in the hold with crates full of trade goods. After countless weeks, Ruttiger groggily emerged off the trade ship and into the Harbor of the Moons, hearing rumors of an inn called 'The Stone Toga' and an old man named Phaedro.

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Ruttiger Caenon quickly and easily learned how Iridine's law system worked, and he approved. Easily bribed, constables were simply an obstacle in the way to larger prizes. Slowly, he learned how to use small blades proficiently. He also didn't hesitate to show off his skill to any fool he knew he could kill doing just that. Although he could have easily been killed off, he bluffed and seemed tougher than he truly was as he gained powerful allies and enemies. He was merely a finger upon the great hand of underground design in Iridine.
Gradually becoming merciful as the years went by, Caenon became skilled at lifting pouches and suckering people into buying the rare baubles he sold for inflated prices. For reasons still unknown, Ruttiger was forced to dash to the swamps north of Vetallun and so took the short way through the Portal. Chills ran down his spine as he came face to face with a huge beast of humanoid form that had dark holes for eyes. Though he easily avoided it's slow movements, he tripped over a fallen corpse laying upon the ground. The figure then lifted Ruttiger into the air by the wrist and snapped it in two. Trying to get away, Ruttiger prayed for the first time in his life as everything faded to black.
His prayers where not answered. The figure placed its foot on his chest and ripped off Ruttiger's head as if he were a rag doll. His looted corpse would be found much later, not many caring that he was dead. In truth, Ruttiger had no choice. He was raised without being given mercy, and as such, he showed none to others.

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