Sheet @ Myth-Weavers (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1402847).<br/><br/><hr/><strong>"Click"</strong><br/><em>Tiefling Rogue</em><br/><br/>Christened "Click" in his youth, for the sound that would emanate all too frequently from his sleeping hollow while he fiddled and practiced with locks and similar devices, there are few, if any, among the living that know his true name. When asked,  he claims not to remember it himself, and when pressed, he becomes evasive, falling back on snark or darkly humorous anecdotes ("Well, I remember my mother calling me 'You Worthless Horned-Faced Freak' a lot, but 'Click' rolls more easily off the tongue," e.g.).<br/><br/>Cynical from a young age(unsurprisingly, considering his heritage and the common reaction to it), and now so jaded that he is, perhaps, the only thief who would not be considered out of place in a Wuxian Imperial Museum, Click holds no great love for King nor Crown, in spite of his well-established history service to both. Sharp-eyed and quick-witted, he observed early on that a sufficiently influential patron would excuse a multitude of sins, and who was more influential than the Monarchy? Instead of dancing at the rope for plying his trade, he was well-rewarded for it, instead; and should one of his more personal "enterprises" capture the attention of the local law, it was a heavy name to be dropped.  He was quite content with the arrangement, and took great care not to strain it beyond its breaking point. It also took him away from "civilization" for stretches of time, which was something he needed more than he would admit, even to himself. The thrill, risk, and danger of the wilds and the forgotten places made him feel<em>alive</em>when the daily drudgery and inanity of "civilization" would choke him.<br/><br/>He is usually seen wearing a strip of red cloth tied around his head, ostensibly to keep his shaggy hair out of his eyes; it also covers the two tiny, unimpressive horns that sprout from his forehead; it's become more a matter of habit or personal tradition than of subterfuge, as his round, tapered tongue is more than sufficient to betray his tainted bloodline to even a casual observer any time he speaks. Few have even seen the patch of thick, scarred flesh at the base of his spine; his lovers learn quickly not to ask about it.<br/>