⚔ Aᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ⚔

A squat figure wrapped in patchwork priest-robes made from merchant banners, Skive wears bells on one wrist and a smirking sun-pin on his chest. His wild copper curls stick out from under a wine-colored hat too large for his head, and his bright hazel eyes glint like mischief incarnate. A bandolier holds candles, coins, and chalk. His holy symbol, a smiling coin, hangs from a thin chain looped thrice around his neck and once around his wrist, “so the gods don’t misplace him again.”

Endlessly talkative and always scheming, Skive’s words are mischief with meaning. He masks sincerity with wit, but has a deep sense of justice for the “cheated and short-changed.” Though whimsical, he’s fiercely loyal once he chooses you as a “blessed cause.” He delights in irritating pompous authority figures and secretly believes Alo may be a forgotten demigod. Tak-Tak, he calls “Grumbleshanks,” and insists the big guy once smiled (he did not). Skive is an agent of chaos who, somehow, always arrives right when needed.

Marzel Vintarre—nicknamed "Skive" after his tendency to vanish right before work starts—was born in the Market Ward to a family of petty coin-charmers and sidewalk hucksters. But after a near-death mishap involving a rigged game of chance and a thrown dagger, he received what he believes was a “divine laugh” from Waukeen herself. Since then, he’s dedicated his life to helping the downtrodden with charm, wit, and magical sleight-of-hand. Skive has tangled with Cowled Wizards (“too serious”), run from the Shadow Thieves (“too stabby”), and conned three fake temples out of their real gold. Now on the run from a self-declared “Archdeacon of Avarice,” he’s laying low—but not quietly.