Criminal

The town of Phandalin, recently rebuilt on the ruins of an older settlement, draws all sorts of people with stories of gold and platinum in the nearby foothills. You came to Phandalin a couple of years ago as well — not to earn a living, but to prey on those who struck it rich. You joined a gang called the Redbrands and made some decent coin as a burglar, enforcer, or fence. But you must have made an enemy among your fellow Redbrands. Someone set you up. On that person’s word, the head of the Redbrands — a human wizard called Glasstaff — tried to have you killed. You escaped, barely alive and thanking Candache, the god of good fortune, for your luck. You fled Phandalin, almost penniless and with only the tools of your trade to your name.