Background Story:

  As most people do, the one who came to be known as The Silt had humble
beginings.  Born in a small elven village near Athenos, Silt grew up in
a relatively peaceful environment.

  The Silt was orphaned by an orc(?) raiding party on his village when he was
but a child of 10 years.  He survived by his parents hiding him in a concealed
cellar under their cottage.  When he arose he found his village burned, and
all that he knew gone.  The only other survivor from his village was an older
girl of 90 years.  The wandered off together to strike out and find a means
to survive.  They ended up in Athenos after nearly two months of wandering.

  Here they were shunned for not being human and forced into the worst of
positions.  The girl, Alorin, was taken into a brothel called The Yellow
Flower and irked out a living satisfying the wily passions of the adventurers
and men of this town.  Alorin took the Silt as her own child, and cared for
him as best she could, however she made barely enough for her own needs, and
so Silt was forced to beg for the odd copper on a nearby street.

  Life continued this way for many years, and they survived.  As Silt got
older the begging went worse and worse, unsable to support himself, he turned
to stealing from merchants and picking the pocket of the wealthy travellers
that often came through this town.

  It wasn't long till his actions drew the attention of the local thieving
guild, who had already earmarked him as a potential danger when he was begging
on the streets.  One day as Silt headed down an alley heading back to The
Yellow Flower he was set on by two apprentices of the thieves guild, come to
deliver a message from their master.

  The first lackey, a tall, thin human lad with blonde, matted hair and green
eyes stepped out from behind a pile of crates and stuck his hand out, "Ho
there Dirt, a word with you".

  Instinctively, Silt's hand dropped to the dagger he had strapped to his thigh,
behind his tattered cloak.  "What word would that be?", Silt responded as the 
second, a short, rotund, black-haired human of no more than thirteen years,
rounded the corner into the alley.  The silent wisp of a weapon being drawn
making Silt glance over his shoulder at the lad.

"That word could be many different, depending on you, elf", the tall one
quickly responded.

"Oh, then what is it I can do for you?", Silt questioned.

The fat one joined the conversation then saying, in a warbling voice, "Join Us".

Silt turned so that one was on each side of him and grasped the handle of
his dagger.  He then shoved his fears down and asked, "And if I don't?".

The tall one's face broke into a crooked smile and replied, "The word would
be 'murder'".

In a fluid motion Silt drew out the dagger on his right thigh and the air
sliced silently as it hurled at the fat one.  A sickening thud and a cry
echoed through the alley as it embeded itself into his shoulder, causing him
to drop the shortsword he was carrying.  While the first dagger was flying
through the air, Silt grabbed at his waist with his left hand and pulled the
dagger there and in one motion, pivoted and hurled it at the tall one, who
was crouching to draw a dagger in his boot.

...