The young pick-pocket was not fair to look upon, with ill-kept brown hair and a film of black dirt over his tan skin. He was stoutly built and of a height that, along with his lighter coloring, indicated some Northern blood in his veins. It was likely that this heritage played a part in his hatred for foreigners. He dressed in typical Far Haradan style, with clothes that showed his thieving to be a profitable business. From a chain about his neck hung a key which opened the treasury at his gang's hideout, but he would need to be sorely pressed before he would admit that it was more than the key to his ailing mother's medicine chest. At his calf, Dzepar carried a long dagger, but he had never had the dedication to acquire much skill with it. He would rather flee than fight, but should he fi