Sutton Fowls, a.k.a. "Dials"
Lurk on a personal mission
Special Ability: Infiltrator
Vice: Obligation to finding his family…
Vice Purveyor: Birdie Nash
Friend: Telda, a begger
Rival: Estelle Frake, a master locksmith
Sutton Fowls, born in Silkshore, is the son of Warren and Judith Fowls, and the younger brother of Barton Fowls.
Warren Fowls was a glass artist, creating works of glass that were so unusual they seemed alive. His art was coveted by the wealthy for its color, shape and aura. In Doskval there was tremendous prestige in owning a “Fowls.”
Judith Novak was a dancer, who met Warren while performing one night at a party in Watercrown, at the Master Warden’s hall. The Master Warden was Warren Fowls wealthiest and most influential patron. Drawn to the handsome young artist, Judith impetuously left her dance career, for a new life and family with Warren. (This story is only a vague memory for Sutton.)
The Fowls studio and home was located in Silkshore above The Slip, a brothel run by a Madame Ruta (possible patron of Sutton’s crew). Unfortunately for the young family, Judith fell suddenly and tragically ill and died when her children were just eight and ten. Warren, overcome with grief, spent the next few months working with his glass, trying to find a way to bring his wife’s spirit back. So focused was Warren on the loss of Judith, that he ignored repeated requests for new commissions and quickly fell into depression and debt. Failing to capture Judith’s spirit in his work, and with not a penny to his name, Warren abandoned his children and disappeared one night in the North Hook Channel.
Scared and alone, young Sutton and Barton turned to Madame Ruta for help. Ruta, running a brothel, was unable to take the boys in, but agreed to find them a place to stay. Learning about the financial strains of Warren, Ruta was forced to sell the Fowls’ studio and home to cover Warren’s outstanding debts; and then feeling that she had no other choice, she took the boys across the bridge to Strathmill House in Crow’s Foot.
Nine and eleven by this time, Barton was quickly apprenticed to the docks, leaving Sutton alone and unsure of the exact location of his only brother. With no friends at Strathmill and Barton gone, Sutton was soon forced to fend for himself working long hours in the Strathmill kitchen, learning to avoid the attention and cruelty of the cooks for the sake of survival. (It is during this time that Sutton begins to learn his craft from other orphans living in Strathmill.)
Sutton was slight of frame, taciturn and observant. His quiet nature allowed him to go unnoticed, which in turn became an important asset. It also didn’t hurt to have the ability to get in and out of tight spaces, to be able to open things that were meant to stay shut, and a certain knack for borrowing stuff without asking. While these talents were helpful around the “Mill,” he also knew these kinds of skills might get him a real job in Crow’s Foot, away from the other abandoned urchins and filthy dorms, away from the constant hunger, maybe even away from the darkness.
One night after dinner at the Mill, while scrubbing out a large dented pot in the kitchen, Sutton overheard something. It wasn’t much, just a few words between the cooks, but in addition to the things he had observed in the store rooms and lockers, he had a hunch it was some information that he might be able to use. He figured out that in the last few months, two of the Mill cooks had become entrepreneurs and started a business, smuggling food out of the Strathmill kitchen, with the help of one the local crews or gangs. (Potential rivals) People on the streets of Crow’s Foot were always hungry, and the mark-up on stolen food was quite lucrative. Best of all, the evidence was always consumed.
With this knowledge Sutton formed a plan. He would gather what meager possessions he had and present the two thieving cooks with a new menu. For an appetizer he would inform them that he knew about their side business and wanted to lend a hand in helping it become a little more unsavory. The two thieves were aware of the old adage about too many cooks in the kitchen and told him to mind his own business. Quiet but not dim, Sutton told them he would be willing to forget what he had overheard, forget that they were taking food meant for the kids of Strathmill, and then selling it on the streets, if they promised to let him slip away from the Mill unnoticed.
The cooks weren’t impressed with his new recipe, and suggested they just chop him up and add him to the evening stew. It was then that he mentioned the Blood Vapor. The cooks quickly realized that the quiet, non-descript young man, known only on the books as Sutton, had something of theirs.
The two entrepreneurs were actually not new to this type of business. They were veteran rakes who had assumed new identities to buy some time while things cooled offed after their last heist. Blood Vapor was a valuable commodity, found only in limited quantities in places most people didn’t want to go. It was prized by alchemists, ghost hunters, and those who dealt with the arcane. Last year, when they had hijacked an armored boat near the docks for another job, they could not believe their luck when the boats cargo contained this precious mist.
The cooks were supposed to keep an eye on Sutton. No one wanted a knife to go missing. Even when Sutton stepped outside, they were supposed to watch him. But these two had bigger plans, and Sutton was so unassuming and meek. Greed can be distracting and its pull one night was strong enough to divert their attention long enough for the silent helper to take the vials and make a drop. Light and easy to carry, the cylinders of Blood Vapor, were now in the possession of Telda, a beggar who waited each night for Sutton take out the trash.
Sutton was always afraid of making friends. Scared that someday those bonds would be broken, and his world would be filled with more loss. He had already lost more than most. A mother healthy and happy one night and gone the next, a dad successful and full of creativity disappearing like a phantom, and his brother, the one solid thing through all the darkness, gone to the docks, maybe even gone forever. [His vice is the obligation to find his brother, maybe even his father, to find out what happened to his family.]
Telda wasn’t much more than a murmur at first. A small voice asking for some food, a thank you. Night after night Sutton saw someone who had less and slowly opened up to him, to the point where he missed the little conversations with Telda if the beggar was gone. The moment Sutton got the idea for his escape, while washing out the large dented pot, he knew he would enlist the help of his new friend, his only friend.
Sutton proposed a main course for the two thieves. For free passage out of the Mill, Sutton would have Telda return the package of Blood Vapor when he knew he was safe. If Sutton didn’t slip out tonight, Telda would be watching, and the Vapor would be a gift, a little desert for Karlos, the bounty hunter that Telda had told him about, who would ensure that someday an accident would happen in their kitchen. An accident that neither of the cooks would survive.
Telda used to be a safecracker. He was one of the best. Part of a tight knit crew that would take jobs no one else would touch. It was on one of those jobs that Telda got burned. The job was going smoothly until they got to the safe. They had never seen a Frake before. Most safes had a series of wheels or gears operated by a dial, but on that day, the safe was different. There was just a crystal on the door and the letter “F.” A “ Frake." Named after its creator and master locksmith [tier V] Miss Estelle Frake. He had heard rumors about these safes, but he had never seen one. The clock was ticking on the job, Telda was unsure of what to do, and things started to spiral out of control. The Bluecoats descended, and one the best crews in Doskvol was finished. Telda busted out a few years later. He was done with crime. He was content with life on the streets. Telda would rather lessen his wants than survive another run in the cooler. But that Frake. He could never let it go. The one safe he couldn’t crack. Maybe his young apprentice could. He had been working with him for some time now and he was good, maybe even better than good. Sutton Fowls was a quick learner, so quick his crew started calling him, “Dials."