Ophir was born to a poor human family in Lakestown in southern Zentar. When he was dropped off at the local temple of The Kindness he spent the first five years of his life in service to, and under the protection of, the local high priest. It was at this time that his gift first started to surface…or it was the time that the priest finally understood what he was talking about. He never really knew which it was. At this time, he was carted off to a nearby town to go to serve in a temple of The Pathfinder. He never made it to that temple.
– – –
Waking swiftly, Ophir found himself in a small room with a bed, a chamber pot, a desk, and a three-legged stool. He thought back to what happened on the cart. The last thing he remembered was seeing someone’s presence behind him with his gift but turning he saw nobody with his eyes. He slowly stood up from the bed and took stock of the desk.
A quill, a filled inkwell, dying sand, and a blank piece of parchment sat on the desk. Disinterested, Ophir looked with the sense that was not his eyes to see who had been to this place recently. He sensed the presence of the person who had been invisible here. He thought maybe they were carrying him, it was hardest for him to sense himself, but they could just as easily have been dragging him. The woman, the sense had become clearer, the woman had talked with someone outside the door then left. The man was still standing outside the door.
He must be keeping watch, Ophir thought to himself, I guess I should let him know I’m awake?
“Hello? Is anyone there?” The last thing the priest of The Kindness had told Ophir was to hide his gift from strangers. They would try to use him to find people, some for good, but those people would be rare in this world.
The man outside the door moved toward it and paused. Ophir heard the key slide into the lock and then the door opened.
“Yes, runt? Do you need something?” The man was dressed in all black and had a pair of daggers at his sides. The man was lean, and Ophir knew there was no way he would be able to outrun him.
“Where am I?”
The man laughed. “Oh, you were the forcefully recruited child. This is the assassin’s guild. Welcome to the temple of The Sneak.”
Ophir’s stomach dropped. This was exactly what the priest had warned him about. People who would use his talents to kill people.