Name: Landro Durandt
Aliases: Smokey, Smokes, Smog, Whoremonger, Wencher, Spiders... many names have been accumulated over time, almost all of them involving alcohol, drugs, and women. The list goes on.
Race: Human
Age: 25
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 175lbs.
Hair: Dirty blond, with matching scruff around his chin and jaw. His hair is very long, with two groups of strands framing either side of his face and curling inward ever so slightly at the bottom. The rest gets tucked into the bandana in order to keep it out of his eyes, or under the collar of his coat.
Eye Color: A "bronze-y" shade of brown
Clothing: There are three items that will always distract from Landro's otherwise normal pants-and-tunic clothing: a blue "bandana" with gold trim that wraps around the top of his head, and has excessively long tails in the back. Made of a fine silk, it was once an advertisement from his father's old business... a reminder of the luxury Landro once had. The second item -- while he does switch them out from time to time -- are long coats that he seems to have developed a taste for, though originally he wore them purely for their warmth. The more expensive they are, the better. Third is his pipe; a simple design made not for aesthetic purposes, but pure practicality and longevity, and it is almost always in use -- apparent by the perpetual puff of smoke following him around. Landro is seldom seen without any of these items, though he is capable of separating from them if necessary.
Personality: Landro's strong sense of duty is well hidden behind his calm and careless demeanor and wisecracking remarks. Without a single fit of rage since his adolescence, some see him as relaxed, while others see him as dead inside. He smiles often and is overall friendly, but rarely puts trust in any single person without some sort of blackmail or bribe to ensure their "trust."
Abilities:
Knife Specialty - Hidden somewhere on his body, Landro always has various knives handy. While balanced throwing knives are his personal favorite weapon, he is known to excel with small blades all the way up to daggers and -- to a lesser extent -- short swords. He values speed and maneuverability above all else, and most importantly: a quick escape.
Dirty Fighting - While he has no professional training in fighting, Landro learned quickly through his many trials in Coldview. His unorthodox style is difficult for trained combatants to counteract, and is considered entirely unpredictable by those who face him. Landro holds only one philosophy in his fighting: do whatever it takes. Stepping on toes, gouging eyes, even swift kicks to the valuables... anything goes. The surroundings become his weapon -- bar stools, loose floor boards, dirt; fighting with honor is only for those who wish to die.
Stealth - Subtlety is key to survival in Landro's trade. To remain entirely undetected by those around you, one must be aware of several things: field of vision, footing, target alertness, possible distractions, and alternative routes. To keep track of all these things at once and remain entirely calm is a feat in itself, and Landro does few things more naturally.
Technological Know-How - At least, that is what he would like to call his ability to pick even the most complex of locks.
Swindler - Woe be to the salesman to attempts to sell Landro anything valuable. The very coat he wears is worth a small fortune, but he managed to convince a merchant that is was a knock off and was worth less than a few rations. His ability to talk his way out of a standoff, into a woman's bed, or into a stylish new coat with flawless delivery and body language is uncanny.
Chemical Tolerance - Through use of various herbs and elixirs, Landro has developed a monstrous tolerance to many things others would consider entirely fatal. Even when feeling the greatly reduced effects of an otherwise deadly substance, he can compose himself well from sheer experience, and navigate the tricks of his mind with ease. His experience with such substances allows him the ability to detect it as well.
Athleticism - Scaling walls, rooftop jumping, and other such rigorous tasks are handled without a thought from Landro. City guards who have had the pleasure of past encounters chasing Landro seldom attempt again. It would only be a waste of their breath.
Backstory:
Bancroft Durandt, a man who built a fortune on the lavish needs of the upper classes in Coldview through trade of crafts. Making himself a middle man for the delivery and production of vanity items and fine weaponry, he made a fortune overnight. Unsatisfied with his already massive treasury, he lost it all in gambling. He abandoned his family without warning and attempted to flee Coldview with whatever coin he could make away with. He was never seen again, and shortly after his disappearance, his collectors showed up to his estate. Corlissa Durandt -- Bancroft's beautiful and sought after wife -- was slain there, but not before cleverly ensuring the escape of her two children, brother and sister: Landro and Devon.
The two children had many trials ahead of them, and they would have to either abandon the moral codes their mother instilled in them, or starve. Begging in the streets of Coldview did little to help their situation; the nobles were too greedy, and the rest were just as unfortunate. They resorted to meager crimes, robbing food stands and picking pockets for small change. Before long, the cold winter came, and Devon's health began to decline despite Landro's efforts... he had to act.
Having joined a gang and become a key member for several years, Landro learned to pick locks, deal drugs, and even kill. His sister inevitably learned to do likewise to a lesser extent, despite his attempts to shelter her from such things. Though Devon's health had returned nearly immediately after Landro joined, something about her had changed. Having been near death in poverty, her greed had become insatiable, having a pathological need for more and more luxurious objects with little to no practical use. She had become something of a mastermind, and her demands of Landro grew. To cope with her behavior, he turned to small drugs at first, but the problem snowballed into a full blown addiction where it seemed as though no herb could curb his itches. Their relationship became increasingly tense, and Landro's love for his little sister tore him apart as she became more and more selfish by the day.
One day, whether it was due to nostalgia, curiosity, or mindless drug-induced wandering, he happened across his old estate. Vines had made their way up the intricate designs of the stone, and the gates were tattered and broken, no doubt the result of multiple break-ins of the abandoned mansion. As he looked upon it, he thought back on fond memories of his sister and mother, smiling together... a state of euphoria of which his herbs could never match. He wanted it back, and he came up with a plan of action in order to do so. He would gamble his life on the heist of his career, and rob the nobility blind.
Several days later, Landro presented the plan to Devon. Though skeptical at first, she could not resist the lure of such riches in spite of her better judgement. They refined the plan over the course of many days, and set it into motion. A fire was set in the courtyard of the local lord's, forcing the guards and servants to attend to the violent blaze... and buying Landro more than enough time to make off with a fortune. Successful in his heist, he sneaked back to his hideout where Devon would be waiting.
Upon returning to Devon and the various contacts that had contributed to intel on the job, they celebrated. For the first time in such a long time, Devon was laughing. Landro smiled, and decided to lose himself in the jovial laughter along with those that made it all possible. As the night carried on, things eventually slowed down, and one by one, people began to pass out... but, something felt strange.
The patterns on the ground began to move of their own accord, and the dirt began to crawl as though it was living. Landro's vision was tunneling, and his breaths began to effect his perspective. His teeth began to grind, and his skin became sensitive to temperatures around him and started sweating profusely. He knew these various symptoms all too well... he had been drugged. As he looked to the associates around him, he began to wonder if it was simply his eyes fooling him... or had they truly stopped breathing?
"Devon!" he called out. Where was she? Had she been drugged as well? He stumbled down the tilting and curving hallways, and unhinged her chamber door with a surprisingly well-placed kick. There she was... standing in the middle of the room, smiling into her mirror as she tried on an amulet with some of the finest diamonds and rubies than even merchants would ever lay eyes on. She turned back and looked at him, clearly surprised.
"Landro! Are you alright? You're sweating terribly." her smile from earlier did not cease, overjoyed at the riches laid out before her.
Landro's hallucinations became stronger. In her face, he saw her skull. The room around them was rotting and decaying as headless snakes wrapped around the drapery nearby. The floor was covered in a shallow pool of blood. Whether it was logic or instinct, his body was trying to tell him something that, at the moment, it could only convey through visual ques. This place... was dangerous. Devon... was dangerous.
"Devon... my... little sister... no... anyone but you..." he leaned on the framing of the door, hardly able to hold himself up upon the realization of her treachery.
"Aw, look at you... you can barely stand, poor brother." she began to step toward him. "Let me help you to your bedroom."
The hallucinations were now indistinguishable from reality, and Devon became a serpent in his eyes, ready to strike. Her head cocked back, and the fangs showed themselves as the serpent launched itself forward. Landro's body was telling him to protect himself.
To her morbid surprise, Devon's dagger had been met by one of Landro's concealed knives in his sleeve. She looked at his eyes, confused and infuriated. "I watched you! You drank the whole thing!" she drew a second dagger from her stockings, "How can you still stand?!" she hissed.
Landro could barely understand her words as his ears began to lose sensory control as well. The serpent grew a second head, and both struck simultaneously... he felt heavy, and his vision began to sink downward...
Devon's daggers swung overhead as Landro ducked swiftly, reflexively swiping her legs out from under her as he went. He turned and ran, stumbling over obstacles, yet still somehow maintaining his momentum.
She threw one of her daggers, but his clumsy movements made it impossible to aim.
Landro's vision became dark... he could only see the shadows of objects, and a light at the end of a great tunnel. He ran toward it like a lost moth, and plunged himself forward. He could see fire, as his body felt sharp pains all over from broken glass as he slammed into the cold street outside... it was like this through the entire night, evading dragon men and demons as his legs carried him through the slums of Coldview, not even stopping to vomit or treat his wounds. The guardsmen, the walls, the ground... everything, everyone was laughing at him. There was nothing he could trust anymore; he had to find solitude, and regain his mind... where he ran to, however, even he did not know...
Devon chose wisely to avoid chasing Landro. He had alarmed the guards as it was, forcing her to abandon their old hideout in search for more luxurious alternatives, with the very fortune that Landro had given her....
