Gitaphix Craklyn


Name: Phix (Gitaphix) Craklyn
Race: Goblin
Class: Fighter 3
Alignment: Unaligned
Gender: Male
Height: 3'6" Weight: 47 lbs Age: 25


Gitaphix is a stark contrast to the environment of Graywall around him, as he takes an extraordinarily large amount of pride in his own appearance. His long black hair is kept meticulously braided and kept back, reaching about half a foot down his back. His face, handsome enough for a goblin, sports a pair of black sideburns, which he constantly combs and maintains when he is bored. His clothing is of extremely fine make, of the finest silk cloth from Aundair, imported especially for him buy a former contact. His most prized possessions are his two blades, his fiddle, and his boots. Belle, his main blade, and Donna, his main gauche (ironic, as Phix is left-handed), are simple blades, however they are the only 'women he's ever loved.' When pressed, he claims to have no favorite, obsessively shining and polishing. His boots, however, are extremely exquisite, made of wyrven skin, with mithral toes, which he won in a game of cards from his former boss. He re-sized them himself to fit his tiny feet, and has claimed numerous times that they are the main reason he and Broderick had their falling out. This has yet to be substantiated.


"Well, lookit that, someone new to our neck'a tha woods. Sit down, sit down, have a drink. This's on me, now worries. What'll ya have, ale, whiskey? Whatever you want, feel free.
Me? Name's Gitaphix. Gitaphix Craklyn. Feel free to call me Phix, most people do. Call me Git, and we're going to have a problem or two, though. Come on, don't just sit there, drink! Drink!
Ah. I know that look. You're wondrin' what a handsome and suave young fella like m'self is doin' in a place like this. Well, grabba seat, and I'll be more than happy to spill. Ya see, I was born and raised in Sharn. I don't like to use the word 'slave,' but I s'pose that's what'd you call it. I worked for a wealthy noble family in the ritzy part'a town. You know, lights, fancy coaches, nice shops…the nice part. Apparently, that's what my whole family did. I was a seventh generation slave or something of that nature. Lived with 'em for a few years. Thought it'd be fun to trout me up, all lookin' like a fine gen'lemen. Even taught me how to fight with a sword. 'Course, I was better than that fat sack'a skin who taught me ever was, but I guess it was good livin' for a guy like me. But after about the millionth "Oh Git! Could you bring me a fresh drink!", I decided it was time for me to scram. See, I figured that a good life in captivity couldn't compare to any life of freedom, so I decided to take my leave of my masters. 'Course, I wasn't just gonna up and go; that'd be rude, and as much as I came to resent my masters, they did provide well and I did owe 'em a good amount. So, I set up a plan with the head of the household to buy my freedom. He agreed, but he said I couldn't get money by interfering with the responsibilities I had 'round the house. Not that there are too many opportunities for a goblin in Sharn…I think you can see where this is going.
That's when I met Broderick. Nastiest, smelliest, most irritable bugbear you've ever met. Ran a good-sized 'discreet supply' business in the Slums. He said he'd give me a good amount of gold to help enforce, patrol, keep an eye out fo the guards…you know, normal mob rap sheet. Took a few years, but I finally made enough to buy my way out. I bid farewell, gathered my things, and took to my new life as a free goblin. 'Course, life being the funny thing it is, life didn't turn out so great. No one would give me a job, I couldn't find a place to stay…so, I ended up falling back in with Broderick and his crew. Not that I didn't make a good amount of scratch, but it just felt like I was someone else's slave again. Broderick became more an' more controlling and paranoid. So, I decided to get me leave 'a him, too. Course, he wasn't quite so understanding as my former masters, and let's just say it led to him and me havin' a bit of a fallin' out. And by 'him and me,' I mean 'him,' and by 'fallin' out, I mean a window. Problem was, the sonava* lived….you'd think falling twleve stories would'a killed a guy his age.
Well, suffice to say, Broderick was not a happy fellow, and that made living in Sharn quite the hassle. He had everyone on his payroll out lookin' for me. Which included a few members of the Sharn Watch. After a few weeks in hiding, I decided it'd be best for me to part ways. I figured it didn't matter how far I went, he'd come looking for me.
Luckily, I knew one place he wouldn't be so eager to send his little henchmen to come find me. Ya see, back in the day, Broderick ran a business here before he mored to Sharn. Made a quick leave after making a few of the major players mad. Suffice to say he can't show his face 'round here without them filling him full of holes faster'an you can say "Fresh meat." 'Course, that don't keep him from sending the occasional bounty hunter out here to bring bakc my head, but I've made quite a little niche for myself, and when you keep the right people paid, they'll tell you who's comin' in from where for what without any problems.
Now, that comes to you. I see your hand reachin' for your dagger, and if I were you, I'd just leave it where it is. Enjoy your drink, go, and tell Broderick you couldn't find me. It'll be better for everyone that way."

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