Crow

The first thing I remember distinctly is someone spitting on me as a child. The other urchin children that I lived with laughed at a lot of things that happened to me, their strange elven friend, but that was not one of them. After I was spit on, a fury began to boil under the surface, but it had nowhere to go, so I swallowed my rage. My humiliator walked down the alley way, but he did not notice when the other children swarmed him that he became a couple of pounds lighter. One of the older kids, a human, who we lovingly referred to as “Sticky Fingers Sam”, pilfered the man’s purse and the idiot was none the wiser. He walked back to me, the sound of his newfound wealth clinking in the pouch as he was tossing it between his hands. Sam pulled out a coin and flipped it in my direction. I caught it without looking, so I didn’t show the tears beginning to form in my eyes.
“Your cut.”
“Thanks.” I said, quickly wiping my nose free of any remnants of moisture. “How did you do it?” I asked, looking up at him.
“It’s pretty easy when everyone else is grabbing at him. Why? Interested in learning?” he said with a smirk.
“It might come in handy.” I said, as a grin began to grow on my face.
Sam began to teach me the ins and outs of the life of a homeless child in the city. Begging was for the weak, but thieving was for the quick witted and cunning. He taught me to use everything to my advantage. He started me off slow, grabbing small items from the drunkards on their way home from the taverns, their senses dulled from their nights of revelry. Pick-pocketing items from people in busy markets from those who are overwhelmed by everything going on around them.
Sam was good, for a human, but I caught on quicker than he had imagined, being a nimble elf child. Soon I was lifting items from people he never thought I could. Hats, rings, and even an entire belt once. It soon became a competition more than a means for survival. We would never steal anything that would draw too much attention or trouble. If something goes missing and people start asking questions, it would have ended very quickly. I started to collect trophies from my marks, as did Sam. He was particularly fond of exotic foods and my favorites were small baubles, particularly shiny ones. I would stare into them and see an entirely different universe that fit in the palm of my hand. This was when the other kids started calling me Crow. One, because I was a wood-elf and that was most of the nature a city kid saw, and second, because of the urban legend that crows collect shiny objects. I didn’t really have a name before then, since my parent’s never bothered in giving me one, so I took a liking to it.
One day, Sam and I were strolling through the local market, looking for something to keep us occupied. Sam spotted an old man walking through the market with a large box of strawberries. This far north, strawberries were harder to come by, so it caught his eye.
“Crow. I bet you that you can’t get that box from that old man.” he said as he pointed across the plaza.
“Sam, I’m not going to do your dirty work for you. If you want the strawberries, get them yourself.”
“All you had to say was you can’t do it, I get it.” he said, giving me a sly smile. I rolled my eyes and started towards the old man.
I approached the old man, who I noticed was a half-elf, slowly at first, acting like I was looking at other merchandise for sale along the way, even picking up an apple and examining it for good measure. He turned around a corner stall and was talking to another vendor about some potatoes. He set the box down next to him and seemed occupied, so I quickly slide up behind him and reached my hand out for the box, but to my surprise, his hand shot out from underneath his robes and grabbed my wrist. He continued his conversation with the vendor, but paid no attention to me yet, as if this was something that happened all the time.
“Let go of me, old man!” I yelled, and tried to break free of his grasp, but his grip was so tight I thought he might have broken my wrist if he squeezed any harder.
“You and I both know what you were doing, young one.” he said, grabbing the box with his other hand. “A life of crime is not suited for one such as yourself, at least, not in your current state.”
“What do you mean by ‘current state’?” I was hoping he would lose his guard and I could get away.
“I ought to turn you in,” he said, with a contemplative look on his face, “but there is much potential for your life if I don’t.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked frantically, confused and turning around to look for Sam, who had disappeared.
“I will give you a choice. Train with me and live a free life or rot in a cell for your crimes.”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“You always have a choice, Crow, but this one is by far the better of the two.” he said, smiling down at me. He let go of my wrist, but I stood there, motionless.
“How do you know my name?”
“Much to learn!” He yelled and he started walking away towards an alley and disappeared from around the corner. I was taken aback by this and stayed for a moment before I ran after him and shouted,
“How do you know my na…” I rounded the corner and did not see the man, but instead I saw nothing but a dead end. I looked up and saw the man walking on the walls, up the side of a building.
“Much to learn!” he said and gave a small chuckle. I smiled, laughed to myself, and ran after him.
In the decade that followed, this old man that grabbed my wrist became my master and mentor. His name was Shanato and he was a leader in a monastery just outside of Neverwinter. I was secluded in the monastery during my training of the martial arts and how to master Ki. This monastery had their own way of utilizing their abilities, which included something I was already skilled at doing. The Way of the Shadow was a very interesting path. Up until I began my lessons, I always thought of monks and holy people and thought they would never do anything untrustworthy. I was very wrong. Although they had their own methods, the reasoning behind using them was a very noble thing. The monastery would take on jobs from locals as they saw fit to bring about a “balance” to the world. I had heard of something like this in the past, something like a Thieves Guild, but this seemed different in its purpose.
“Shanato, why do we steal? Isn’t that wrong? Isn’t that why you were going to turn me in all those years ago?”
“We steal do bring about a balance to humanity. There are so many people that have more than they could ever wish for and so many more than have nothing. We steal from those that have more than enough and give to those that have nothing, much like yourself and your friend Sam.”
Shanato told me of the different jobs that the monastery would take and they were always taken from someone that desperately needed their help. Jobs were never accepted if it was for the employers own personal gain, but only as a means to survive. The people we stole from were malicious people, that didn’t deserve the wealth they had earned or were spending it frivolously and it was better suited elsewhere. The darkness was our way of bringing in light to this world.
After another thirty years of training, Shanato, who was getting very old in his age, but still seemed quite youthful, began to include me in some of the missions. Using my shadow abilities made it easy work. Infiltration, deception, and stealth were as easy as breathing. Our monastery was thriving under Shanato and our surrounding community was all the better for it.
I was returning to the monastery after a job one night when I heard a loud crash in Shanato’s quarters. I approached silently with my short sword drawn and saw a man, standing over Shanato with a bloodied axe raised above his head. I moved in for the strike and drew my blade across the man’s neck. As I pulled it across, his body turned and I saw the face of my old friend, Sam, staring back at me.
“Sam?” I said, as I dropped my sword and cradled him as he fell.
“I thought you were dead, Crow…” he said, coughing up blood. I grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. I began to weep for him as his hand went cold and dropped, lifeless from mine. I looked over to Shanato and saw a deep wound in his chest from Sam’s axe. I ran to his side and dropped to my knees.
“Why did he do this, Master? Why did he come looking for me? Why would he attack you?”
“He was hired by someone to kill me…from a mercenary group…that we stole from years ago.” He said, struggling to get out the words. 
“Carry on your duties, Crow. Uphold the balance. Keep this monastery going.” He grabbed me by my shirt. “Swear to me you will.”
“I will, Master.”
For the next fifty years I took many jobs for the monastery and tried to find any means to keep it going. The jobs slowly dried up after Shanato’s death, but I managed to find different ways to acquire money, including a tournament of combat in Baldur’s Gate, in which other monasteries competed in. While I was in Baldur’s Gate, I saw another means of earning money to send back home. It seems that a caravan is looking for guards to help them on their journey.
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Crow would be another crucial player in Faerun's destiny upon becoming a member of the Scarred and quelling Tiamat's uprising.  Among those who saw pitched battle not only at the Well of Dragons, but within it against the dragon goddess herself, his martial skill was unparalleled, many arguing it still is despite his disappearance upon the War of Tyranny's conclusion.  It is whispered that Crow departed to the realms of Thay to wage war against the Red Wizards and their undead hordes.  After the death of many such wizards, those rumors are beginning to take on the likeness of reality as a vengeful shadow stalks the practitioners of necromancy and evil, turning the tide singlehandedly in the conflicts of that realm.