Grant the Grey
Grant’s face seems to have seen a lot of sun, his feet have pounded a lot of leagues, and his eyes have been joys and horrors most people can only imagine.
His hands, though they are usually used for signing contracts and counting coin, still look like they could swing a sword at a moment’s notice. His arms still ripple with lean muscle, not the strength of a bruiser but a technician.
His hair and clothing, though clean, are always at the edge of chaos and dirtiness, though it is mostly because he seems them as a distraction rather than because he is slovenly or lazy.
And while he never smiles, his eyes will shine when he makes a joke, usually a deft jab of satire about the powers that be or other handlers or the foolishness of one of his wards. He shows kindness through gruffness, and his work is clearly his joy.
He was murdered in the streets of Waterdeep by Quinn, strong arm lunatic for the Hounds of Cyric.
Grant the Grey is a kind man in his mid-60s living in DAGGERFORD, and can often be found at the Dragonback Inn. When he was younger, he did some agent work and made a fortune, unusual in that line of business. More unusually, he quit before he was killed. He used his fortune to bankroll treasure seekers of all kinds, and in time, became something of a local legend, in part, because most people owned him at least a small debt.
In his 50s, he began buying debts from other money lenders and forming them into adventuring teams that he trained himself along with a few of his close friends. He was always looking for natural talent and large debts so that he could keep his agents for long periods of time, not only to help them become better at their trades, but to keep them from doing jobs beyond their powers. His best talent always seemed to be knowing people and understanding risk.
While he was once a cleric of Waukeen, he rarely practices the rites of his religion. Instead, he says that his work is like prayer, and every debt bought or sold is like a hymn to his god.