Percy Barlow

male halfling rogue standing about three feet tall, with a warm complexion, tousled curly hair, and famously bare, leathery feet, dressed in practical dark travel clothes with a fitted vest, belts, and small pouches, a dagger sheath at his hip

Percy Barlow was born beneath the copper-domed roof of Barlow House, where servants polished the silver and tutors taught him which fork belonged with which course. His family owned three mills, a stretch of river, and enough political influence to make a magistrate forget a name. Percy learned every rule of noble society before he learned to resent it: how to bow without bending, how to compliment a rival, and how to lift a signet ring from a lord’s finger while asking about the weather. At thirteen, he slipped barefoot through the manor’s locked gallery and stole his father’s ledger, discovering that the family’s wealth came from doubled rents and hungry millworkers.

He did not expose the ledger or ask permission to change the world. He sold his fine coats, left the family carriage at the end of the road, and walked away from Barlow House with a purse of common coins and his father’s best lockpicks. Percy refuses his family name when it opens doors, introducing himself simply as “Percy,” sharing tavern benches with washerwomen and merchants alike. He speaks to barons as though they are stable hands and to stable hands as though they might own the town by morning. His noble upbringing remains in his polished manners, flawless table knowledge, and instinct for finding the person with authority in any room—skills he now uses to make those people regret underestimating a barefoot halfling.

Percy steals from the rich because locked boxes, guarded vaults, and smug owners present a challenge he cannot resist. He studies a target over dinner, learns who drinks too much and who checks the doors, then enters through a window, chimney, or servant’s passage with his shoes tied to his belt. He favors jewels, incriminating letters, and heirlooms displayed as proof of superiority; sometimes he sells them, sometimes he returns them with a mocking note, and sometimes he spends the money on a week of drinks for everyone in the district. He calls it justice when the theft helps someone, sport when it does not, and refuses to pretend the difference bothers him.

Percy was in the noble quarters looking for some easy targets that have returned from the tavern, he sees an orc stood by a table with a big purse that could be filled with gold, Percy slowly approaches and bumps into the orc managing to take the purse of gold, but the orc soon picks up that he is not stealthy enough, the orc turns and see's Percy scurrying off.

''hold up a second there fella''

Percy stops dead slowly turns around muttering ''fuck''

The orc approaches bends down and notices his purse of gold '' are you poor young man''

Percy proceeds with a quick ''yes''

The orc is not fooled '' hmm'' he grunts he pulls out a stone with a 4pointed star with eyes on each point.

'' you take this and when i call on you... you better be ready''

He turns and flashes away super quick climbing up a building in seconds and vanishing into the night.

Percy looks at the stone and mutters to himself ''what the fuck have i got myself into''

Personality

Percy can make a crowded tavern feel like a gathering of old friends. He remembers names, notices empty cups, and gives each listener his full attention, whether they are a baron or a stable hand. His grin comes easily, and his nimble fingers punctuate every story with expressive gestures, flashing rings, or a vanished coin. Percy speaks with relaxed confidence, turning insults into jokes and suspicion into curiosity before anyone notices the change. He is generous with praise and quick to offer a favour—though he keeps score of every debt. He dislikes being ignored and may charm a room simply to prove he can.