Whitlock grew up on the streets of Waterdeep.  His father was a
human guardsman sent off to some uncertain fate and not returned.  The
only thing that Whitlock knows, for certain, about his father is that he
was a human guardsman with a white lock of hair at the center of his
forehead amidst the black.  His mother, a handmaiden for a "minor noble"
had been disgraced by the whole ordeal of him and sent away from the
household where she had indentured because she would not reveal the name
or any of the circumstances surrounding the father of her
now-quite-obvious-although-not-yet-born child.  The mistress gave her some
small parting coin and bade her go her way.
	Whitlock's mother, somewhat spiteful of the child because of the
inconvenience that he was obviously causing, named him "Whitlock" upon his
birth because of his resemblance to the father (she subsequently never
referred to the father by name even to Whitlock), it being the common
combination of "white" and "lock".  Her own honey-colored hair and gently
pointed ears were unpresent in his black hair and fast-increasing stature. 
	She, then, being unwilling to starve or live in hovels, refused 
to reside in lower commons and quarters, earning what she may by telling 
stories and singing as well as doing minor stitchery for merchanting 
household gatherings and those of the wealthy but not quite noble while 
Whitlock took what he could from the homes and the people as a child.
	To begin, it was only the game that a child of five might play, 
and she was shocked and appalled by it.  She paid a small sum to a local 
leathersmith to take him as an apprentice and teach him what he may, but 
the man did not maintain the quarters to keep the boy and he remained at 
her side at further gatherings, still taking what he could, she later 
learning to encourage it and live from the gains.
	She died when Whitlock turned seven, his thieving being caught 
and her hand taken as the price.  She had been unable (or, likelier, 
unwilling) to pay the fine and had taken the punishment for herself.  The 
infection that set in shortly thereafter took her life and the remains of 
her coin went to the merchants and the leathersmith to fill the contract 
and replace the losses.
	Whitlock grew up under the hand of his cousin thereafter.  The 
young half-elven scoundrel taught him the ways of wenching and getting 
merchants and adventurers drunk enough to fall asleep so that stealing 
from them was easier.  The cousin, finally convinced not to call him by 
"Whit" (a childhood nickname, suggesting that he wasn't more than a whit 
at all), started calling him "little dragon" by the age of thirteen 
because of his ungodly habit of being incredibly spare with his coin and 
lording over the gains he had like an evil master. Besides that, the boy 
was nearly six feet in height, dwarving all of his then acquaintances, 
and was hardly a "whit" anymore.
	Whitlock learned to get his wealth in any way he could, using his 
leathersmithing skills and stolen scraps of leather to make things he 
sold in the markets, as well as playing his flutepipes in the markets and 
continuing about his petty cons, often cutting the innkeeper or barkeep 
in on the profits in payment for their silence.
	Whitlock is self serving, for the most part, bordering between 
dark acts of anger or depression and graciousness of so great a magnitude 
that leaves most witnesses wondering just what it is that he has gained 
from the transaction.  He is almost too fond of his knives for the 
comfort of most and gambles or whatever he wills in order to increase his 
fortune so that he will have ever more to lord over.