A Game of Hands
Rejard and his father had arrived from across the sea over ten years ago. The boy was young, only eight years, but the father, Rolan, was already past his prime. As the two settled in Westfork, they became reasonably well known and liked by most. Both were quite handsome, and with Rolan being single, there were many unmarried women completely infatuated with him. Whispers of “exotic” and “mysterious” would always bubble through the crowds when he passed, but he never took advantage of the attention. In fact, Rolan remained reasonably private, despite always being welcoming to visitors in his home. Young Rejard, however, had no idea what the older women meant when they pointed to him and said they’d have to “protect their daughters” when he grew up.
He was a shy child and had a vivid imagination. More often than not he made his own toys, carving them out of wood and putting on extravagant “shows” in which his friends could play. Indeed, there were many who believed his stories, even at this young age, were significantly better than the local bard’s.
But as he aged, he started to follow in his dad’s footsteps. Becoming a skilled speaker, entertainer, storyteller, and dancer, Rejard was rarely away from the public eye. Even with all the mischief of his friends, he always found a way to put a positive spin on events if they ever got into trouble. He attended many faires throughout the region and even competed with the shortbow at many of these events. These local travels, unsurprisingly, are where he learned to gamble. Specifically, Rejard’s favorite game became the Game of Hands, a card game common in the taverns and palaces of the region.
Both Rejard and Rolan are always well dressed. When speaking casually, they are caring and polite, though Rejard may keep a splash more sarcasm than his father. When in public, though, both of them become “performers.” They speak in a different voice, enunciating their words, projecting confidence, and generally making every word sound epic and noteworthy. It is common to find crowds around either al’Thiar when they are speaking.
Rejard is just over six feet in height, which helped to persist the rumors that he and his best friend, Karim, were related somehow. This has been denied many times over by Rolan, but there are always those who remain uncertain. The fact that both have a dark skintone and black hair, and that Karim spent many days and nights within the al’Thiar household listening to Rolan’s stories, did not help dispel the rumor.
Just over one year ago, Rolan al’Thiar vanished. When questioned, Rejard will only say “he had something to do,” but he speaks no more about it. It’s as if Rejard maintains a melancholy acceptance of his father’s departure, a knowledge that there was something of much greater importance to which Rolan needed to tend. But lately, Rejard’s been getting antsy about finding his dad again, and he’s been asking around regional taverns to learn as much as he can about the world.
Rejard can often be seen wearing white tunics and vests with gold piping. His pants, too, are mostly white or gray. When traveling he wears an ornate looking rapier and his uncharacteristically simple shortbow. When in town he leaves his rapier in his room, but takes his bow if there’s a chance of hunting or competition. Recently, in the past year since his dad left, he’s kept with him his dad’s gold and silver pocket watch. Like his father before him, he goes nowhere without the timepiece.