Short and barrel chested, with humorless dark eyes, Gbele would be considered to have a distinctive appearance in any crowd. Add in the fact that he is outfitted in the traditional warrior garb of the interior jungles of Chult, and he generally sticks out like a sore thumb in Tashluta.

As a holy man of his people, Gbele insists on the honorific "Mwamuzi", meaning "Father" in Tabaxi. He is polite and respectful to a fault, and expects the same courtesy from others.

Gbele was raised as a worshipper of Ubtao in the sparsely populated interior of Chult. He was a good student from an early age, though some of his ideas went against traditional teachings. Frustrated by the faith's preference to take a defensive stance against threats, and plagued by dreams of evil spirits destroying his beloved homeland, Gbele has decided to go on offense, venturing out to face the enemies of Chult head on. He considers his dreams to be visions from Ubtao, and he assumes that he will recognize his enemies when he sees them.

There were no witnesses close enough to the event to hear the exact words that were exchanged between Kojo the slave trader and the serious Chultan holy man. None of the locals had seen the Chultan before, and the general consensus among the street level gossip brokers was that he was in fact new in town, a bit provincial, and unsurprisingly ignorant of the ways of cultured city-folk. Kagiina the washer-woman swears that she saw the holy man put a hex on Kojo, while Fat Boutros is of the opinion that it was nothing more than a rude hand gesture. What is not in dispute, however, is that Kojo was beating one of his wretched porters when the Chultan stepped between the two. Words were exchanged, but by the time Kagiina got close enough to hear, all she caught was the holy man's offer, "...so if you must punish some-one, why not try me?" His gaze was unnerving, such that Kagiina scurried away with a rustle, though it was not directed at her. Kojo simply stared back for a long while. Details past this point are vague, but the more reliable recounting notes that the Chultan then retired to a nearby boarding house.

Average height, with a thin, athletic build. His naturally dark skin has been tanned an even deeper, richer brown by time in the sun. His entire body is covered in an intricate pattern of lines, dots, and geometric shapes- it must have taken weeks under a needle to achieve such a complete covering.

While not a suli or planetouched, he must have an elemental ancestor somewhere in his makeup because his eyes are a pale, almost white blue and his black hair is tinged with blue. Wind constantly swirls around him, as well, making a constant, if slight, breeze around him even when he's indoors or underground.

In port he typically dresses in well made but not ostentatious clothing, while out at sea he prefers to shed most of his clothes in order to better feel the wind and the water on his skin.

Polite but distracted. Jabari grew up learning a nobleman's manners and a rich man's lessons. He can speak about the arena or horse racing or trade or wine like any privileged youth, but that isn't where his interest lies. When he speaks to a person he seems like he's only half paying attention, like he would rather be somewhere else. Sometimes that is true- he prefers being out on the open ocean to almost anything else- but most of the time he isn't being rude on purpose, he is just distracted by stimuli that most humans tune out. He can't block out the lap of water on stone or the calls of the birds wheeling overhead or the way the breeze is building into a wind. All of those things are as real and pertinent to him as the person standing in front of him. While he is very intuitive and empathetic, he understands animals better than he does humans- his friends say that he could talk a fish out of the water but he couldn't convince a person to come in out of the rain. That said, he is friendly and generous and a good friend, it just takes patience and time to get to know him.

While a wealthy and noble merchant house now, the Damarthe family traces its roots back to hunters in the Black Jungles and tries never to forget that its fortunes are tied to the vagaries of the hunt and the whims of nature. Though Jabari's immediate family spends most of their time in their estate in the Noble District of Tashluta, the family maintains a large compound at the foot of the Hazuk Mountains on the fringes of the Black Jungle south of the city where some of his aunts, uncles, and cousins live year round. The family considers itself responsible for the surrounding village and nearby lands, too, and do their best to be good stewards to the people who live there and the natural resources at their disposal.

The Damarthes' money comes from the animal trade in Tashluta and beyond. They own farms and stables outside the city and sell to the many independent traders operating in East Market and the rest of the city. They regularly import dangerous animals for the games, supply exotic creatures to populate noble estates, own breeding farms and training facilities for guard and work animals, and locate rare creatures by special request. They started centuries ago by importing deadly jungle animals for spectacle in area, grew into guard animals, and over time worked their way into controlling most of the animal trade in the city.

The fifth of six children, Jabari was never expected to take up leadership in the family. He was expected to go into the family business, though, and always had a fine touch with the animals. While he grew up amongst the rich and privileged children of Tashluta, Jabari internalized his family's respect for the natural world and sense of responsibility for maintaining the balance between the people who worked for the family and the environment that provided so much of his family's fortune. He always felt more at home out on the family's compound near the Black Jungle.

It wasn't until he first went out on a friend's family's yacht that he realized he felt most at home on the water. With the sky above and the water below, fish in the sea and birds overhead, Jabari felt at one with everything around him. On land, around people, he was always a little bit uncomfortable. In the city there were too many people packed in close to each other, too much stone underfoot, buildings blocking out the sky. In the country the land was too cultivated, even on his family's lands. Manicured nature bothers him almost as much as dead stone- he sees the cultivated plants and domesticated animals and imagines them uncomfortable, envisions them wild and free. He is no hater of civilization. Jabari loves his family, likes the comforts of civilized life- his morning cup of coffee, a comfortable bed, well prepared food. He understands there needs to be a balance between the civilized world and the wild, that the two can complement each other and benefit each other. But still, he never feels more at peace with the world than when he is out on the sea, up in a crow's nest with no one around and nothing but the wind in his face.

So Jabari was called to the sea instead of his family's trade. He had always had a way with animals but what people thought was just a general dreaminess and easily distracted personality was actually a deep, mystical connection to things a normal person blocks out. Far more than any normal person, Jabari pays attention to the air on his cheeks, the moisture in the air, the wheeling of birds in the sky. He feels the most in tune with these things when he's out on the open ocean, with water under his feet and open sky over his head.

Eventually his ship- a trading vessel, not a whaler- got caught in a freak storm out on the deep sea and Jabari found himself washed up, half-drowned, on a beach somewhere. The druids in his circle tell him they felt his connection and went out of their way to rescue him in the middle of the storm, saving him so he could serve the sea. It was there that he received his first real training in the methods and lore of the druids, his first lesson being that nature is a harsh teacher. In spite of his natural inclinations his training was hard- he had never had to provide for himself, never had to forage or fish to feed himself, never had to make his own shelter or worry about water and protection from the elements.

When he returned to Tashluta a year later aboard a merchant ship that had been taken by pirates, the distracted young nobleman had changed. He had been through deprivation and seen adversity and become stronger for it. No one would have called him strong before, but now there was a centered-ness to him, a sense of surety and will. Jabari had been declared dead along with the rest of the ship's crew, and while his family was happy to see him there were still legal necessities to work through before he could be returned to the family's accounts. So even though his family set him up with an apartment he still had to find work to support himself.

He started to seek out problems to solve, working to fix things where he saw nature and civilization were out of balance. Since he had shown back up with one of the Vanderborens' ships, Lady Vanderboren was a natural lead in to his new business. Jabari started with her and his old friends, then their friends and families, looking for people who could use his particular set of skills. This led him to find other people who needed help, and he has become a regular problem solver for the Vanderborens and is known among the merchant and noble class as a problem solver, a person who can deal with thorny issues. While he is no household name in the city, he has developed a reputation as someone who is capable and, above all, discreet.

Somewhat tall for a Calishite, standing just an inch or two below six feet, Parant el Mojal carries himself like the tiger whose colors he wears. His posture is erect, his movements easy and deliberate, speaking of quiet, understated power beneath his usual loose and flowing orange-and-black desert robes. A bandolier crosses his chest, overtop a braided-leather breastplate or vest of sorts. From his left hip hang two intricately carved wooden clubs, one carved to look like a crouching tiger, the other decorated with the image of a soaring eagle. In his clean-shaven, sun-colored face, beneath shoulder-length, dark brown hair, sit a pair of surprisingly sapphire-colored eyes, the pupils of which are ringed with gold. When in shadow, or under a raised hood, those eyes almost seem to glow with very faint golden light. Though he does not appear to be seeking attention, everything about how he stands speaks to something noble in this man's blood. A close look at his right hand, and the worn-looking signet ring that rests there, would quietly confirm any such suspicions. If he is a noble, however, he does not seem to feel the need to announce it.

Parant tends to take everything seriously. This doesn't mean that he doesn't smile, or can't relax and have fun, just that he doesn't do those things too often, and not if it's not appropriate. His definitaion of what is appropriate may differ from that of others. Having once been responsible for ruling upon the laws of men in a corrupt city, Parant now follows a higher set of laws - those of Nature. While he doesn't expect men to always abide by those Laws, he is constantly aware that there are consequences in store for those who flout them. Not a preacher or evangelist, Parant does not force his views upon others. He merely quietly notes what he sees. Where Jabari is concerned, Parant tends to act something like an exasperated older brother. He doesn't fuss or fawn over his friend, but should anyone threaten (or appear to threaten) Jabari, Parant is quick to intervene, and he does not usually do so gently. Where anyone else is concerned, Parant tends to be quietly accepting and polite, if not overly friendly.

Parant yn Parak el Mojal yi Manshaka was born to one of the many "noble" families in Manshaka in the year DR1319. His parents encouraged him to get an education, and to go to work as one of the many bureaucrats and officials in the highly corrupt government of Manshaka after Pasha Abon Duum had taken control and "stabilized" the city. It took some convincing, as young Parant much preferred spending time hanging about the areas of the city where he could see the magnificant animals that would be brought in from far off lands. He was aware that they were mostly destined for he arena, but as his parents wouldn't let him watch the events in the arena, he didn't really know what fate awaited them.

Eventually, however, Parant studied the law, and his parents nearly emptied the family coffers in securing him a position as a judge. Unfortunately for his parents, Parant turned out to be an honest judge, who followed the law in making his decisions, rather than one of the many judges who would be willng to rule on cases according to who paid them the most. While his parents managed to recoup some of their investment from gifts received by those who were grateful for Parant's judgements, it was a far cry from the life of riches and luxury they had been hoping for.

It was dangerous to be an honest judge in Manshaka, as many a person found themselves in the slave pits for merely slighting or offending the wrong person. Parant, however, managed to avoid such a fate. Mostly by ensuring that he never did anything that could be turned against him in a courtroom, but also because his fellow judges appreciated that having him around ensured that their own courtrooms were busier (and thus, more profitable), as plaintiffs with more... _nuanced_ cases made efforts to avoid having to plead those cases in front of Parant.

But after the better part of three decades as a judge, Parant found himself feeling as though his time and efforts were wasted. The law had no weal hold on the people of the city. Corruption was rampant, and went (quite literally) to the highest position in government. He was, as one observer had put it, "trying to bail out a boat that's already been sunk, by using a teaspoon." Nothing that he did seemed to make enough of a difference. Parant found himself spending more and more time back in the areas of the city where the exotic animals were trafficed. He knew, now, the sad fate that awaited most of the animals, and that knowledge did not please him. Still, the snatches of time he could spend even near these amazing beasts - even in cages - somehow restored some part of himself, briefly. The time he spent there also led to him making some friendly acquaintances amongst the animal handlers. Some few of them treated their animals with more respect, and even kindness, and it was these to whom Parant was drawn. He never made true friends with any of them, but they came to know and recognize him, and he them.

In DR 1369, the Drudach fires raged through the city, killing many, including his parents. Even as the fires continued to rage, one of the men Parant knew from the animal market approached Parant outside the collapsed remains of his parents' house.

"You do not belong here," the man said. Parant knew, somehow, that the man was not speaking of this house, but of the city - of Parant's life. He nodded. The man - Jaloch, by name - proceded to point out to Parant that thousands had died in the fires, and many more were likely to follow before the flames were extinguished for good. Many of those who perished would be unrecognizeable. Many more would flee the city to escape the hunger and privations that were likely to follow. This was, Jaloch said, a singular opportunity for Parant to just disappear. To leave his life, with no one to chase after him, or to attempt to take revenge for anything. It was, in fact, Parant's chance to "be like the phoenix, and from these fires be reborn, into a life that matters, and can make a difference."

Parant was sceptical - he had nowhere to go. No alternate "life that matters" to be reborn to. He had money, of course, but little else. That was when Jaloch made his offer. At first, Parant didn't believe it possible, but then Jaloch showed him. In the space of a few breaths, the man in front of him blurred, and went from his man-shape to the shape of a tiger, a bear, a zebra, an eagle, and then back. "You, too, Borther Parant, have within you the spark of the animal - the force of Nature flows within your blood." Go with Jaloch, was the promise, and learn to harness that spark - learn to enforce a much higher law than those of corrupt men: the laws of Nature. If Parant could handle the challenge, if he could prove worthy, he would spend the rest of his life learning to become one with the great beasts that had captured his imagination as a child, and had given him his only peace as a man.

That was enough. Parant left his parents' bodies where they lay, whispering a prayer for a blessing upon them. He went to the place in the back yard where he knew they had buried a certain jar, dug it up, and with only the litte money it contained, the clothes upon his back, and the ring that proclaimed both his family line and his position as a judge, followed Jaloch out of the burning city and into his new life.

For four years, Parant lived on a small island somewhere in the blue waters of the Shining Sea. There, along with other initiates (most much younger than he), Parant survived - and eventually began to thrive - through the difficult initiatory rites and training and testing of (the Circle). Most of his fellow initiates were seeking to become druids. He witnessed as they attempted to harness, tame, and control the powers of Nature. He wintessed as many of them - most of them - failed. Some spectacularly, ripped apart by the fury of the storm, or smashed to a pulp by the strength of the waves. Others succeeded. Parant and a smaller group of initiates, however, focused their training on focusing and controlling the power of Nature within themselves. Most of them failed. Parant, however, was amongst those who succeeded.

Over the course of his training, Parant came to feel and understand the spark of power within him. He also came to understand that there was another spark within him as well - the spark of the divine. His family had always been rumored to have the blood of Jann within its deep history. Parant learned the lie of that - and of the truth. The blood of Celestials flowed within him, thus his strong desires for law and order. His error had been in thinking he could find such law amongst the fragile societies of men. His training had made clear to him that the only laws that could not be avoided, corrupted, or circumvented - at least not for more than a short time, and always with terrible consequences - were those eternal laws of Nature. And Parant had been born to be an embodiment of those laws. To enforce, and to protect them - and those who served like him. Those of his talents were called to serve the Circle (and other Circles), primarily as guards and enforcers, scouts and spies. Doing with tooth, claw, beak, fin or wing, what could not be done by less personal means.

Following the fourth year of his initiate, Parant was deemed ready for his graduation quest. It was a gruelling test, which took him the better part of a year, and of which he only rarely speaks, except to say that, in completing it, he cast away the remnants of the man he had been, and began the journey to becoming fully the being he is meant to be.

After a few months of recovery, Parant was approached by one of the Elders of the Circle. Parant, it seemed, was to be assigned to one of the newly-graduated druids of the Circle. It was, the Elder informed him, Parant's task to see to it that this young man stayed alive to fulfil hs destiny. Not by keeping him safely bundled away from danger - that, after all, was not Nature's way. Parant was to accompany his new charge out in to the world, stay with him, and join with him in whatever adventures the ocean tide carried them into. There was little else in the way of instruction, other than that Parant's loyalty and responsibility was to the Circle - not his charge. He was not to be a servant (except if and when such an arrangement furthered their mission), and he would answer to the Circle - NOT the young druid - should he fail in his task.

That was a little more than a year ago. In the time since, Parant and his companion, Jabari, have traveled back to Jabari's homeland of Tashluta, and taken up work for one of the local families there. Though things may not have started as "fair winds and following seas," Parant and Jabari's relationship has developed into a promising friendship, and there is a feeling in Parant's mind that important, meaningful things are on the wind...

The first thing anyone will notice about the Saltwater Devil is the ornate mask that conceals her face. Comprised of a strange black material, its features have been shaped to resemble a devil, with pointed ears and twisted horns. The second thing people usually notice about the Saltwater Devil is her weapon. Wielding a finely crafted cutlass, the blade is formed of the same substance as the mask. Whenever the magus casts a spell a pattern of blazing fire spreads both across both of these items.

Beneath her mask the Saltwater Devil has glowing red eyes, long black hair, and chapped lips. Beyond that, little can be described, not even by the former pirate herself, for she has not gazed upon her own face in over 7 years. Her skin is fair but marked by her years spent at sea, the wind and sun having taken their toll. Her build is short and slight, though her arms and legs are not without muscle.

The Saltwater Devil wears tall brown leather boots, black pants and a black shirt, all with gold trimmings. A crimson coat rests atop her armour, and a spellbook, component pouch and some daggers are attached to her belt. Although all of these items are of good quality, the fabric is faded and the leather is battered, as if everything has been worn for several years.

The Saltwater Devil lives a solitary existence. Her mask and weapon draw attention wherever she travels, people always watching her with suspicion. The magus has long since grown used to their distrustful stares, and usually ignores how people treat her differently, though there are days when she struggles. Despite this, the Saltwater Devil projects confidence in everything she says and does.

Because she is unable to rely on facial expressions, the Saltwater Devil often relies on body language and gestures to communicate effectively. During most conversations she comes across as very animated.

Ashe was born the daughter of the great and terrible pirate lord, Captain Indigo Bridgers. She didn't have any brothers or sisters, nor did she know anything of her father. Growing up, her mother was the only family she ever really had.

Raised on Dragonisle, Ashe spent most of her early years roaming Immurk's Hold, though her mother went to great efforts to see that her child was shielded from the worst of the debauchery that took place on this lawless island. Ashe never received a formal education, though she was occasionally tutored in the ways of magic, for her mother was an accomplished wizard as well as a pirate captain. But whether she was acting as a teacher, captain, or parent, the woman was always cold and distant, and not afraid to administer a beating if her daughter didn't complete her many chores.

When she was older, Ashe was brought on as a member of her mother's pirate crew. She worked the rigging and swabbed the decks, doing whatever needed to be done. She watched in horror as the woman who raised her set fire to the sails of fleeing vessels, and summoned beasts to tear apart enemy crews. Working alongside humans, elves, orcs, and minotaurs, Ashe was only rarely called upon to fight, but killed her foes quickly and efficiently, fearful of what would happen if she refused.

But on her 18th birthday everything changed. Asleep back home, Ashe awoke in the dead of the night, disturbed by the sound of fiendish chanting. She tried to climb out of her bed, only to find herself trapped in a magic circle, her mother emerging from the darkness like a denizen of hell itself. There were no apologies, no excuses, as the wizard prepared to sacrifice a member of own bloodline in return for more power from the Nine Hells. This was the reason for her daughter's existence. The purpose for which she was made.

Ignoring's the girl's pleas, the pirate lord summoned an emissary of hell to complete the ritual. But as the devil came forth in a burst of infernal flames, Ashe screamed to the fiend that she would offer up her mother's life instead of her own, if only it would give her the chance. Seemingly amused by the idea, the devil waved its hand, dismissing the magical circle that had constrained Ashe, and she leaped upon the one who would see her blood spilt for the sake of this ritual.

The contest between mother and daughter was vicious, but without any time or space to cast her magic the pirate lord was soon broken, Ashe continuing to beat her mother until she was little more than a bloody stain on the floor. And as Captain Indigo Bridgers took her last breath, her body was reduced to ashes. The embers then rose up into the air, and adhered to Ashe's face, forming the black devil mask she now wears today. A mask she could not remove. A mask that would not allow her to identify herself or even speak her own name. To do any of these things would mean certain death.

It was on this day that she ceased to be Ashe Bridgers, and became the Saltwater Devil.

Some of the embers remained, and they came together in front of the Saltwater Devil to form a black blade, a cutlass of unparalleled craftmanship. Its blade sharp and its hilt firm. With the ritual complete, the devil disappeared, but not before leaving the magus with some parting words. "This was not the end, but the beginning. We will meet again."

The Saltwater Devil fled the Pirate Isles, stowing away on a ship. For a while she was lost, adrift like seaweed on the ocean's surface. The magus knew that what had done would have a cost, that such a bargain with a devil would almost certainly see her soul committed to the Nine Hells, but she refused to just give into death so easily.

The former pirate spent the next seven years travelling the world, aiding others wherever and whenever she could. Sometimes working for coin, sometimes working for free, the Saltwater Devil was desperate to do what she could to balance the scales before hell came back to claim what was rightfully theirs. Throughout her journey the magus continued to study magic, her mastery over the arcane becoming greater with each passing day. Was it normal to reach such an understanding with so little effort? The former pirate did not think it was. Another gift she wished she could return.

Unable to show her face or even speak of her old life, the one now known as the Saltwater Devil has put the past far behind her. After recently defending a merchant vessel from being boarded by pirates, her travels have finally taken her to the city Tashluta. And it is here that her adventure really begins.

Smudges on Shielsirroll's face generally come from one of three sources: dirt from digging for lost artifacts, charcoal or ink from furious note-writing, or soot from the many fires she sets.

Shiela has dyed her hair flaming red in deference to the elemental force most used in her craft. She dresses in whatever she finds most comfortable and functional for the situation, but generally with long sleeves to keep her fire ink tattoos hidden.

Her pale skin reveals years spent inside a school but her frail form belies her courage and stubborness.

When Shiela hadn't yet passed her sixth birthday, she cast a spell that nearly burned down the quiet Tethyrian fishing hut near the family's house. The local count caught wind of this event and immediately snatched her from her family, either for fear or for desire to take control of the power for himself. His wizard retainer, though, could not discern how she'd learned the spell. They found no obvious trace of draconic or other bloodlines, and reached the conclusion that she must have been taught the spell by local elves that normally would have kept far distance from the village.

Shiela herself doesn't remember, but she does remember that she could read Chondathan, no small feat for daughter of a common fisher, by the time she reached the academy in Darromar for formal training.

About a year later, she learned that elves had attacked the village and killed her father and the count, though she never believed that the elves would have been that agressive.

She learned all her cantrips by the age of 12, but spent the next 10 years studying at the academy all subjects of knowledge, not just magic. By then, she decided she'd learned all she could from those books, and set out to collect as much knowledge as she could. She sees power and knowledge as means unto themselves, with no real goal for anything beyond, other than perhaps using her power to help others.

Fire is her one true friend. She sees it as a living creature. It is born, it breathes, it hungers, it travels and it dies. But it can never truly be trusted, and must always be respected.

Syd is a thin and lanky elf, with longer-than-average limbs. It can come across as a bit unnerving at first. His long blonde hair is left a bit unruly most of the time, though he will tie it back when he needs it out of the way. His rapier hangs on his belt in easy reach, and he carries himself like a coiled spring as if continually ready to leap into action.

Cautious and slow to trust due to the failure of his previous guild, Syd seeks somewhere to belong. Once he does trust, he is fiercely loyal. He's a city elf that feels uncomfortable in the wilderness, continually wishing for civil amenaties. Socially he is initially quiet, choosing to gauge the situation before engaging. Once he gets going, though, it is difficult to shut him up. Due to his cosmopolitan upbringing, he holds few prejudices. About the only people he is wary of is Drow.

Sydreas Faeborn does not remember his life before Tashluta. His childhood was spent among a rather large and diverse family. His human "parents" tended to take in children who needed homes, especially those of mixed or unusual heritage who weren't welcome elsewhere. Syd knew he was an elf, hence his adoptive surname, though he never did learn what clan he came from. In the end it did not matter, for he felt Tashluta was home.

His free time was spent exploring the city via rooftops and/or walls. This brought him into conflict with landowners and the City Watch on occasion, but he was smart enough not to cause a ruckus and just leave when asked. He became quite acclimated to City life; crowd navigation and just knowing how the city works. As much as his cousins knew how the forest worked.

He also took a job doing courier work for a variety of clients. Being lithe and an expert at navigating Tashluta, he was quite good at it. While he wasn't too discriminatory as to who he worked for, he endeavored to only accept work from clients with a positive reputation. His discretion earned him a bit of respect among the guilds.

His skills were noticed by one of the lesser guilds, the Hand of Lathander. They were a group of rogues and others with a sort of Robin Hood complex. They worked against the aristocracy and benefitted the downtrodden. It was a bit ironic to name their guild after the deity the aristocracy worshipped. Syd did well here; courier as before, or sometimes more overt actions. Through the years in the guild, Syd honed his abilities. Not just his ability to traverse any obstacle put before him, but his skill with a blade.

Everything ended recently, however. The guild was raided by agents working for the aristocrats. Most were killed, but Syd escaped via his parkour skills. He never found out for sure who they were, but word was they were followers of Shar.

Syd was careful for the first few months, not knowing if he had a mark on his head. But with no bounties posted he hazarded to be less invisible. Nobody came for him, and tavern talk suggested that the aristocracy was happy that the guild was dispersed. Their profits were rising once more.

Then Syd made a name for himself independent of his former guild. He heard tell of a wealthy merchant whose daughter went missing. Multiple rumors spread about where she might be held, but using his knowledge of the city he was able to narrow the field. Soon, he was on his way. He rescued her, by bringing her out a fifth-story window onto the rooftops in the dead of night. Her captors were expecting a raid by ground floor, not a rooftop rescue. Her merchant father was incredibly grateful, offering everything from gold to his daughter's hand in thanks. Syd turned it down, merely asking for a small amount of gold to cover his room and board for the week.