Despite the reputation that Duncan Verdell has built up on many different cities and kingdoms, most would be disappointed to find out the truth about the man who is so tight lipped about his past. Most assume become of his great competence and preference to hide his comings and goings that his past must be some great and terrible thing to be only spoken of in awe and whispers. And while Duncan has used this air of mystery to aid him in a bluff many a time, the truth is he is nothing more than common gutter trash that has gotten lucky.

Born among the teaming masses of the Dock Ward of the city of Waterdeep, his early years are a blur of a mad scrabble for survival. His mother was just another girl working in just another brothel, and his father could have been anyone. The Madam of the brothel did not allow children on the premises for fear of a horde or urchins hurting business, so Duncan was forced to spend nights out on the street, and sneak into his mother's room during the day while she slept. Nights in the Dock Ward is dangerous, even for a full grown adult, let alone a child. He had to do a lot of growing up very quickly. Not wanting her child to grow up to simply be another thug or a victim, his mother squirreled away enough coin in order to send Duncan to some private tutors in order to teach him his letters and numbers. He took to his lessons fairly well, showing more intellectual aptitude than his teachers would have assumed. His learning served him well, as he starting running numbers and messages for the various gangsters and businesses in his area. By the time he was sixteen it seemed liked he knew everyone in the Dock Ward.

It was about this time that his mother fell ill. Some form of consumption it seemed. Desperate for the expensive medicine that would save her life, and having little in the way of time to work for it, and not foolish enough to take out a loan, Duncan had few options. However, few knew the city as he did, nor the sheer amount of people that he had made lasting contact with him over the years. That made him valuable to certain...organizations that valued those of lucrative ability. So as to mark himself from the common mountebank, Duncan began utilizing an unusual skill in order to impress. He had wasted many hours in taverns and brothels, sometimes waiting for his mother to get off work, by playing games of chance, and darts. He had particular affinity for throwing tavern darts that translated easily to knife-throwing. These contacts and memorable throwing skills kept him fresh in the minds of certain less-than-legal Guilds, and he has been acting as a strong-arm enforcer for years. Intimidating those who won't pay protection, or chasing off punks on their territory. That kind of thing. Any work that can keep his mother alive.

One day he hopes to cure her disease, and buy her a big manse in order to live out the rest of her days. It is a dream that he probably won't live to see, but it is his dream, and he will fight for it with every blade at his disposal...