Born in Esgaroth, Weslir spent the first part of his life as an orphan, thieving from stalls to get by.  Not long into his fifth year, he realized Lake towns architecture would allow him to up his game; The closely cropped roofs created a whole new map of the town, one with its own paths, hiding places and beautiful viewpoints. More importantly, it allowed easy access to a wealth of richer homes.  In a few short months, the young child gathered a cache overflowing with gold, and earning himself an infamous name with the townspeople.  He was never caught, never seen, never noticed.  Over the next four years, several Laketown merchants recieved huge investments, allowing them to trade over longer distances, migrating to Gondor with instructions to set aside their mysterious investors share of the profits until he came to collect them, however far into the future that may be.  A day after the last merchant departed the town, Weslir left, heading south to Rohan, where several blacksmiths found their budgets greatly increased.  he did not stayed for a further five years, before moving Northeast, towards the Shire and Bree-land.  Along the way, he would clear the roads of brigands and bandits, eventually learning of a steadily increasing bounty on a migrant criminal by the name of Damric.  This criminal from Rohan reportedly had a hidden agenda, moving from brigand band to brigand band, always heading north.  Weslir understood his actions all too well; He was looking for something, taking work from whoever would pay, just so he could fund and continue his search.  Instead of empathy, however, all Weslir felt was a thirst to add to his already massive fortune gathering in Gondor and Rohan.  The years on the road perfected his skills in tracking, and his work clearing out the brigands who had supported Damric turned him into a deadly bladesman.  

Before long, however, the money he carried with him ran out, and he was unable to replenish it sufficiently on the road.  Cursing, he was forced to turn around, abandoning the trail, and return to Rohan, where he discovered the traders he had invested in had squandered his money.  Furious, he took from them everything they owned, casting them out into the open plains.  He sent a messenger to Gondor, asking for his funds to be brought to him, but the messenger came back empty-handed.  Weslir went himself to investigate, and learned that his merchants had been bought out, and no longer acted as caretakers of his money.  Unable to rub two coppers together, Weslir took to the road, taking work wherever he could.  Ironically, he now worked for the brigands he had once fought against.

  For another seven years Weslir tracked Damric across the land, to Bree-land, on through the Shire to Ered Luin, where he lost his trail.  Convinced he had now lost his last chance to rebuild his fortune, he stayed in Thorin's Halls, and took to drink.

  Three years later, he attended a quiet funeral service conducted for a man from Rohan. The man from Rohan.  Through the pyre flames, Weslir glimpsed a hooded, one-eyed figure turn away from the small group of mourners.  He mounted a pair of horses and rode away into the night.

The figures face, however, sent shivers down Weslir's spine.

For the same face watched him every time he went to sleep from a wanted poster pinned to his wall by a throwing knife.

Damric.

The fire in his soul rekindled, Weslir set off once more in search of riches.  He tailed his Quarry to the Shire, where he finally confronted Damric, his sword drawn,, his eyes burning.  The contract had become personal, even though Damric had absolutely nothing to do with him. 

The older man almost slaughtered him, proving experience is far superior to youth.  Even though Damric had sworn never to fight again, he took the younger man under his wing, tutoring him, teaching him the true art of swordplay, styles Weslir had never been able to master beforehand. It seemed as though Damric had found a new way to influence battles without directly participating in them; It was commonplace for him to train warriors who came to him seeking aid, as Weslir was not alone in his training.  An older man by the name of Zaringard, five years his senior, also studied under Damric, alongside Weslir., but departed before Damric had finished teaching him, unable to remain hidden when Middle Earth needed a hero. Finally, when Weslir's education was complete, Damric passed on everything he owned to Weslir, including his gigantic fortune amassed over the years, and the Sarrell Inheritance Armour, now dyed black and gold and overdubbed "Plate of the Exiles".  He also charged Weslir with protecting his niece, Robynwen, whom Damric had distanced himself from, and even allowed her to believe he had died, in the hopes that she would be able to live a peaceful and happy life, and not have to eternally peer over her shoulder for his enemies. Agreeing, Weslir departed the Shire for Bree-land, and Damric for Forochel, where he hoped no-one would ever find him again.

  Several years later, Weslir received a cryptic message from an unknown source, demanding his attendance at a secretive meeting in the dead of night.  When he arrived at the specified location, he found himself once more in the presence of Zaringard, fellow student of Damric.  This old friend, with whom he shared a brotherly bond, had summoned him in order to found an order of warriors to hunt the forces of Darkness across the land.  However, their exploits would frequently place them at odds with the law, and so the organization had to be secret, operating and fighting in and against the shadows.