Wren grew up parentless. Even when they were alive, his mother and father were never around. Instead he was left to the ministrations of a rotating carousel of relatives. He never stayed with any long enough to form any attachment. A distant child, to be looked after and tolerated but not loved. When his parents died he shed no tears for the strangers that they were. Cast into the institutionalised neglect of the city's orphanarium the only thing that changed was that Wren would now have to work for his food. It quickly became apparent that Wren had an eye for detail and a head for numbers. The orphan master was pleased that one of his collection of human flotsam would be able to bring in real money. To capitalise on his new bounty, the orphan master educated the child as best he could.
Raising orphans is a thankless and poverty stricken task and so it was that the orphanarium ran out of money. Desperate, the orphan master made a demon's bargain. Two thirds of his wards would be sold to the Guild so that the other third may continue to eat. Heavy of heart, the master left the partitioning to a drawing of lots. Wren reached into the bag and picked out a black pebble. Amongst the other new purchases he climbed aboard the wagon and watched as the orphan master, wracked with tears, faded into the distance. That night, in the drafty warehouse, the Guild examined their bounty. Sensing Wren's potential he was plucked from the huddled mass, rescued from the manacles, and put into school.
Under the patronage of the Guild's administrative affairs bureau, Wren studied accounting, language, the art of investigation, human psychology, and the martial arts. The Guild needs sharp eyes, incisive minds, and firm hands to expose and dispose of obstacles to their power, both within and without. Wren soon became one of the Guild's more gifted auditors and, once he reached majority, he joined the Guild as a risk manager. For wayward members of the Guild, he is judge, jury, and executioner. For people who would seek to curb the Guild's reach, he is a perpetual spanner in the works or a final end to incompatible ambitions. Many would curse his name if they only knew it.
Guild assassins sought to one of Wren's investigations prematurely. What they did not reckon with was the gift of exaltation. His powers amplified, Wren has been forced out into the light to bring the traitors to heel.
Wren has cultivated the appearance of the stereotypical traveling merchant. Slightly (but not overly) pudgy, short hair and a well-trimmed beard. His clothes are well made and would not be out of place at informal gathering of burghers or behind a stall in a crowded marketplace. On closer examination, this outward face has some cracks belying the person within. Wren's hands bear the calluses and small scars accumulated over a lifetime of martial arts training. His soft brown eyes are constantly roving, attentive to any changes in the surroundings that may disclose hidden information or immanent danger. The clothes are surprisingly sturdy and facilitate ease of movement while providing many secret pockets to hide items of interest.
Wren can usually be found with his weapon of choice - an ornamented staff. Like its owner, the staff is sharper than it seems. A hidden mechanism extends nearly a foot of sharpened steel instantly transforming the harmless stick into a deadly spear. Wren has also begun dabbling in firewand-based martial arts and now carries a intricately carved flamepiece. His other accoutrements, those that will not fit in his many pockets, live in a well-traveled backpack.
An unblinking eye that each observer thinks is looking at them.
Wren's multitudinous belongings include:
- An ornate but worn staff with a hidden blade.
- A shiny new flamepiece.
- A sturdy buff jacket.
- A coat with many pockets.
- A well thumbed notebook full of secrets
- A selection of pencils, sticks of charcoal and of chalk, a ink pen (with no ink), and other writing implements.
- An incomplete set of jewelers loupes.
- Various pouches and vials of firedust.
- A battered backpack.
- A small lady's mirror.
- A collapsible spyglass.
- A folding pen-knife.
- Tarnished tweezers.
- An assortment of cocktail sticks, toothpicks and other items with which to poke and prod.
|"Curiosity Killed No One"||Defining|
|"The leader is responsible for their subordinates"||Major|
|Priest Aldbur Fire-Devil (Respect)||Major|
|'Wind Follower' (Respect)||Minor|