Kite, a.k.a Markus Mudgeboren

Once a smuggler and vagabond, now a branded convict.


Markus is a human male in his 30’s. Physically, he is good looking by Old World standards, of average height, having dark hair, grey eyes and pale skin. He is given to laziness but has lived on his toes so is neither overweight nor overly healthy. He is unselfconscious, not caring too much what others think of him, and smart, but not a deep thinker. No-one in the Rooks would ever have described him as such, though, since he makes little effort to impress his thoughts on others. He likes to whistle, which made him a poor lookout.

He is personable and easy-going. If he seems lazy it is because he is easily contented rather than reluctant to act. He is independent and doesn’t expect anything of anyone. If something needs doing his first thought is to do it himself. He is never heard to complain and doesn’t hold a grudge.

Even this latest misfortune is just a change in the wind – to him. But to his family and their small empire it was a tragedy. Freedom for him means a chance to pick up the pieces.


Markus Mudgeboren was raised at Gebroken Hall with sixteen of his siblings and seventeen more, whose parentage being in doubt may also have been related, but were always family regardless.

They took the names of birds, Markus being “Kite”, and their gang being the Rooks. Gebroken became their Rookery and Dankred Dunn, its former master, their leader. With his one milky eye and canny mind Dankred perceived opportunities everywhere, and under his wing they endured both the law and the lawless.

Other leaders have come and gone. The Rooks themselves have never been an especially significant force, preferring scavanging and smaller tasks over the grander plots of others. Neither have they experienced much internal strife, their little community being a relatively enviable one in the the Old World. Each looked out for the others. It is perhaps for these reasons they have survived.

Something obviously changed. Suspicion and recrimination crept in when they slept, crept in and plucked Kite’s tail feathers. He’s had a bad hand his whole life, but this is different; he was free and had a place, now he isn’t and doesn’t. But like old Dankred used to say, find the opportunity. If life deals you a bad hand, you change the game.

Actually what he said was “If life pisses on you, you bottle it, call it lemonade, and then sell it when the weather gets warm. Just don’t do it in front of the Magistrate’s house. That’s a bad idea. Get you thrown in gaol, that will. Then rats’ll nibble yer bits off, and who wants that?”

But then there was something living in his ear at that point.

Kite, a.k.a Markus Mudgeboren

The Thousand Thrones Ceri