Kennet River

A thirty year old man, forged by the fires of life and fate, a bard by trade, a thief by omission. Kennet River. He weaves the tales of yore through songs on his harp, and though his tales are full of adventure and honor, he yearns for a life untouched by any man. He longs for a wife and children to sing tales to, instead, he sings in taverns for the drunks and adventurers who pass by. He can make the most solemn hymn sound like a symphony, and the happiest of songs sound as if it were mourning life itself. "Words can be shaped to fit your purpose.", Is what he always says. It's what he lives by. A thief of both money and mind, and yet master of neither. He may be only thirty, yet he's a gambler and he himself is also a drunk. He visits orphanages as he moves from town to town, and the children love to hear him sing for them and to play with him. He's even begun courting a girl, Maraly Gold, who turned on her twenty-ninth birthday on January twenty-eighth, a week after Kennet's birthday. Her the color of cocoa and her eyes are like hazel. She helps run one of the orphanages in Laventown, a place in the middle of nowhere. Forests, hills, plain and rivers as far as the eye can see. It's peaceful there. Except.... when you show up. A troublemaker some said, others just say it's plain bad luck that you lost your parents. You? You're angry and in pain. All the things you were going to do with them, all the places you wanted to see, the memories never made. It gnaws at you.