Name: Dismas Delaporte (pronounces his last name Dell-uh-port as opposed to the family De La Porte/Day-Lah-Port)
Age: 36
Gender:Male
Class: Highwayman
Appearance: If you had to adequately sum up the appearance of Dismas in one word the only viable option would be
Mean. Not only do his sharp hawklike facial features come off as hostile but his average wardrobe screams “I'm probably committing crime” on a daily basis. He is actually somewhat small for a man, standing at only 5'7” and likewise has a slender frame to match. Don't let that fool you though; he is the type of man that has no fat on him and is instead made up of mostly thin ropey muscle. He is that rare dangerous type of scrapper who gets mistaken for weak due to the outward appearance of his body: many a man has made the mistake of thinking they could overpower Dismas only to wind up on the sharp end of his blade.
His most eye catching and memorable feature is the the quarter inch thick scar that starts mid forehead and runs directly over his left eye all the way down to the bottom of his cheek (somehow his eye came out unscathed)
Bio: Like many a highwayman Dismas has honed his craft over the years by preying on the misfortune of others in a somewhat civilized manner-well, as civilized as a gun toting dagger wielding criminal can be. There was only bloodshed when they resisted...or he had a really good ambush.
Its not his fault that he lives on blood money though-or atleast that is what he would tell himself night after night as he crawled ever deeper into the bottle. This mental affliction caused from the years of his trade was only made worse by the fact that Dismas had always been well aware he came from (As he had been told) an extremely rich family-only you don't really have any inheritance rights when your only claim is a mother who was a whore to the sex crazed lord of the local mansion.
Needless to say he was shocked to receive a rain soaked and partially blood stained letter from a random courier; the note of which he'd brought Dismas both explaining that the family mansion had fallen to ruin as of late and he should come reclaim his birthright.
Was it possible that he had somehow outlived every other legitimate heir to this seemingly abandoned estate? And if so-how much money could he make off the famed mansion that overlooked the Hamlet of BlackBirch? Probably a pretty penny, he assumed. Without wasteing any time he set out for his ancestral lands, determined to claim his rightful riches for both himself and his long forgotten and late mother.