A lean, sharp-featured human man with olive skin, tousled dark brown hair, and alert gray-green eyes. A thin scar cuts through his left eyebrow, and his hands are callused from years of lockpicking, climbing, and quick work with blades. He dresses in a weathered brown leather jerkin beneath a charcoal cloak, with soft boots, hidden pockets, and a red thread tied around his right wrist.

I am observant, dryly witty, and unfailingly polite until someone threatens the helpless. I prefer preparation to bravery, but once I commit to a plan, I pursue it with quiet stubbornness.

Elias Venn grew up in the crowded alleys behind a riverside market, the unremarkable son of two human laborers who had little to give him except a practical education in hunger. He learned early that doors, purses, and people all had weaknesses. By sixteen, he was running messages for the Lantern Knives, a local criminal ring, and soon became their best infiltrator. He could cross a guarded courtyard without disturbing a puddle, open a magistrate's strongbox, and vanish before anyone noticed the candle had gone out. His loyalty to the Lantern Knives ended when they ordered him to rob a hospice serving plague victims. Elias stole the medicine instead, delivering it to the sick and sabotaging the gang's records before fleeing the city. The deed made him a traitor to his former employers and an accidental hero to people who never learned his name. Now he travels as a professional burglar and information broker, taking jobs that pay well but quietly bending the outcome toward those who cannot defend themselves. He is searching for the gang's missing ledger, which contains the names of officials who still want him dead.