<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d8/RowanPF.jpg)  </div><strong>Rowan Riks</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/wiki/File:Rowan.pdf)<br/>Unchained Rogue 2, Human, Chaotic Good<br/><br/><strong>Concept:</strong><br/><br/>Rowan is a classical rogue, focusing her penchant for curiosities and treasure-seeking to a purpose that serves the greater good... With the hopes of enjoying herself in the meantime.<br/><br/><strong>History: </strong><br/><br/>A slight, bright, and friendly girl, Rowan was towered-over by her family of farmers, smithies, and bricklayers... The proverbial runt of the litter, she nonetheless sought to make herself useful despite her propensity for wandering daydreams, inattentive labors, and sloppy chores.<br/><br/>Her mother's doting over the petite and sickly-seeming "babe" earned Rowan the jealousy of her older sisters, eventually, so Rowan grew to value her private time over games of sport or socializing, making excuses to escape to books she'd squirreled away rather than lift a milk pail or pull potatoes, much less attend a garden dance or watch the seasonal competitions or festivals.<br/><br/>When written adventures wore thin, and she could find no devices with which to tinker around the homestead, Rowan looked longingly toward the horizon, wondering about other mountains and valleys and cities that would dwarf her river village.  Despite her diminutive stature, she was fast and clever, and she managed to sow, reap, and escape a fair share of trouble through her own merit.  She earned a sort of notoriety in her childhood, leading her own little 'bandit gang' of rapscallions from neighboring farms to search out lost cattle in the hills, to stake out rogue foxes that threatened henhouses, to sneak off for overnight forays to 'uncharted' islands to claim as fortresses and hideouts.  They explored caves and wells when they were supposed to gather herbs.  They met up in town and snuck into tavern rooms to spy on travelers.  They traded bits of ephemera from the outside world-- from knives to scraps of blue books to buttons to old locks-- with a stern reverence, holding the lore among their secret circle of would-be adolescent renegades.<br/><br/>As their childhood gave way to teenage years, the other children were carried off from their fantasy world to other pursuits... apprenticeships, betrothals, more intensive chores and labors.... but Rowan was left behind.  Picking at the old rusty locks of abandoned chests, practicing with her pig-iron daggers on the straw-dummies until the sack-cloths could no longer hold.  Her parents no longer sent the youngest to fetch her with nagging, hollow threats of a switching or denied dinners, for she was almost a woman now and her hard-headedness was set... she earned her keep in her own way, but an honest day's "work" in the fields was almost never to be counted for her.  She might bring in a cask of butter or a few coppers for chasing down a debt or finding a runaway daughter, and the only suitors at her father's door for her were either disturbingly lecherous or otherwise questionably motivated.<br/><br/>"Let Rowan be," her mother finally told her father, on the girl's fifteenth birthday when the hearth matters came up-- again.  Of perhaps forcing her to wear a dress or grow out her hair, or learning to cook anything besides a spit-roasted rabbit.  "Rowan's not a plowhand, nor a babe-bearer nor an anvil-pounding brute.  But she knows what's right for 'erself, so let her be."<br/><br/>And that was that. And Rowan Looked to the horizon, to the sunsets and the roads, knowing that her destiny was there somewhere... and she waited for the opportunity...<br/><br/>Then, that fall, bandits arrived.  A small clutch of them, surely, but enough.  They were moving fast, riding stolen horses they'd ridden to near-death, and they came into the river-town with their weapons unbared and their hoods drawn up high.  No one seemed to notice at first, and they seemed content to resupply and move on, but the inkeeper was a shrewd one and knew their coin was from the East-- where word of a robbery had reached a day earlier, and where their description had followed.  Alerting the local defense-- little more than a few ex-soldiers and farmhands-- was enough to set the bandits to a panic, so they sacked the inn and took over the town hall, fearing actual resistance.  Eager to prove herself capable of Independence, Rowan snuck among the rallied militia to face them.  She was promptly captured, along with four other local men, when the prepared, hardened criminals repelled the assault.<br/><br/>When her identity was revealed, she was not only blamed for being a distraction in the attack, but she was subject to immediate... attention by the bandits.  After a few hours of drinking and looting, one might say that "luck" would have it that they feel to fighting each other over her, and left her locked in the cellar of the town hall, which she managed to escape easily during the evening-- long before soldiers could be mustered to attack the hall, and while the squabbling, drunk, and exhausted bandits were still planning their escape.  With the other prisoners, she mounted a counter attack and killed the bandits during the night... in doing so, she may have made herself a hero of sorts, but none could forget that three village men had died in the initial attack, and no matter her role in their failure, the question would always remain if she was to blame somehow.<br/><br/>She left her home some months later, without explanation, but unable to meet the eyes of the township who saw her with equal parts shame for her sacrifice and blame for their lost loved ones. In those eyes there was either hatred or pity... what was a girl doing there, anyway?  Had she brought the pain of her ordeal upon herself?  Why could she not save the three dead?  What had she done to earn their trust before murdering those bandits?  No one dared speak such horrid thoughts-- perhaps they were only questions in her own mind, born of the pain and shame of what she'd endured-- but she would not bear it in such a small town, where every face was familiar and every dead son or father was in every face.  So she left... seeking out some of the great cities of her land, finding experienced mentors to teach her how to apply her ambitions to more actual results.<br/><br/>Though young yet and minute of stature, her determination is unquestionable.  She fell in with her present company with the same dedication and resourceful hope that has carried her so far, intending to ply her stealth, her knack for locks and traps, and her skill with the blade to achieve some good in a world where, in most senses, she does not fit.  No epic hero, she knows, she hopes only to support her companions through thick and thin, meeting the challenges that arise in Greyhawk's depths where the darkest depths have yet to be plumbed.<br/><br/><strong>Description:</strong><br/><br/>Well under five feet in height and under a hundred pounds in weight, Rowan is petite and compact, dressed in boyish clothes for mobility-- accidentally emphasizing her lean muscle, her tapered waist, and the gentle swell of her hips.  Not especially well-endowed, she's still unmistakeably female unless she actively tries to hide her form under layers of bulky clothes.  Her blonde hair is bobbed short, and she keeps it out of her face by tied leather bands and occasional, haphazard braids.  Her snarky humor and lack of tact makes her a poor negotiator or charmer, but she can manipulate with a clever bluff when she puts her mind to it.  Perhaps a result of her recent issues, she seems to shy away from any sort of leadership role except to try to lead by example or to offer solutions, keeping her mouth shut and her eyes forward more than raising a banner.<br/><br/><strong>Sexuality:</strong><br/><br/>Rowan is attracted to both men and women, but hasn't fully explored her sexuality.  Her self-exploration has been fairly tame, but healthy. She's known no real, intimate relationships, with only a few brief encounters of heavy-petting of a superficial nature to gauge her interests in a lover.  Recent events have turned her solidly against specific acts and situations, but her curiosity and resilience-- though daunted-- won't be silenced.  She will carefully reclaim what was taken from her, when it's right, with someone who determines she's right as well.