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Kendrick the Cursed

Kendrick stands just over 6 feet tall, with deep-set grey eyes and red hair that comes just above broad shoulders. His pale skin looks hard, but not abused, and his face seems to edge slightly towards a cool neutral. He has an athletic build, with legs and arms that lean more towards slender, but defined.

The death of his mother served as a warning. Kendrick took that warning to heart, and views most people with suspicion as a result. Alliances are necessary, but of limited usefulness, and if a result can be obtained without one--or, perhaps, without an ally knowing--he is more likely to at least consider that option. Strategy and survival are key, however, so to that end alliances will survive at least as long as are necessary to secure his position, and longer if he can use them after that.

While he'll always have an interest in finding the one(s) responsible for his mother's death, his interests lie primarily in rebuilding what was lost, and from that, developing a power base that will make satisfying his need to redeam that warning less likely to get him killed. If along the way it enables him to satisfy needs or interests that may arise, then, so much the better.

Cursed Kendrick

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She looked harmless enough, all 5'2 of her almost seeming distracted behind the bar. Kendrick had been out of money and low on food when he'd spied her from a corner table where he could watch both the bar and the door for new arivals. What he'd yet to learn, but was about to, is that she'd had an eye on him from the second he walked in - and it didn't necessarily need to be her own eye. He sat with a book and a mug of something that was supposed to have been ale but fell just a touch short. The book sat opened but unread, the mug barely touched, and the man lost somewhere in his own thoughts. Which, come to think of it, was very probably why he didn't hear her approach until she shoved the chair opposite him out and plopped herself into it.

Almost on instinct, cold eyes snapped to her and a hand went to the dagger he'd secured at his right hip. She only shook her head, lifted a hand, and two men who'd been seated at a table near Kendrick stood to approach. She tilted her head to one side. "Ye may be Lenora's kid, but ye'll be dead b'fore that blade goes more'n an inch."

Kendrick only blinked. Once. The hand moved away from the dagger as he surveyed the situation, and he offered a slow nod. How in creation did she know what he was up to? More importantly, how did she know his mother? She didn't keep a great many friends - one didn't, when one had a handful like Kendrick to raise.

"See?" She said, and dipped a slow nod. "Knew ye weren't completely daft. Now listen and I'll answer yer questions. I know ye've got 'em, so shut it or ye kin keep 'em."

Kendrick thought about arguing, at least for form's sake, but the look she sent him changed his mind. Instead, he sat back, because there wasn't much else one could viably do with a couple guys with blades an arm's length away, and let her get to her explanation. He found, as she did, that she indeed knew what he was going to ask--often times before he did.

"This place was yer mother's b'fore ye came along," Marta started, shifting comfortably back in her own seat and letting a hand signal send the two enforcers back to their table. "Took a lot out of her to give it up, but she'd more important matters as it were. Somethin' about her son's s'posed to be destined for greater things." she shook her head. "Anyway, she bein' busy as she was with ye and yer father bein' off more'n not, she handed the place to me. Figured when it was time for ye to leave the nest ye'd come passin' by this way, so asked me to keep an eye. See if I can't prevent some fool from puttin' a knife in yer back at least long enough for ye to figure out if ye ought to put one in his. Seemed a fair enough trade, as she'd saved me skin a time or two in the day."

She reached across the table, plucked up the mug of ale and took a sip. Shaking her head, she asided, "It's no wonder ye haven't touched it. I'll have another sent to ye when we're done here." She replaced it, then continued. "I been keepin' an eye, as I said, since ye come in to town. Oh, not just me, for sure - I know people who know people." she paused, then let her lips curve in the very faintest smirk. "Call it a benefit of runnin' this place." The slightest tilt to her head. "With yer mother's passin' and yer father bein' who knows where, I s'pose it falls to me to keep up with that now."

"Oh, ye've misunderstood, miss--" But he was cut off with the a shake of her head.

"Ye're poor, near starved, and that slop pretendin' to be ale kept yer attention for far longer'n it ought to," she said, jabbing a finger at the mug as though it had personally offended her. "And me name's Marta. Now. Let me let ye in a little on how it'll be while ye're about, aye?"