In the shadowed alleys of the bustling city of Tervath, where intrigue and danger lurk around every corner, Zimkar's tale began. Born into the secretive world of the catfolk–an enigmatic race known for their agility and stealth–Zimkar was always a bit different. From a young age, his mischievous personality set him apart from his peers, as he preferred pranks and trickery over the more traditional paths of honor and duty.

Zimkar's parents were part of a renowned clan of catfolk known for their exceptional skills in espionage and assassination. They served the highest bidder, their loyalty bound only by the weight of the coin. As a kitten, Zimkar's nimble paws and quick wit made him a natural at learning the subtle arts of stealth and deception. However, his penchant for causing trouble was about to catch up with him.

One fateful day, while exploring the markets of Tervath, Zimkar stumbled upon a peculiar item in an oddities stall, an old weathered hat. Zimkar loved it's elegant folds and hatched a plan to steal it. He stole away in the middle of the night and stalked to the unattended stall but as he reached for the hat, a voice called out in the dark: "It's a lovely hat isn't it?". Zimkar froze and slowly turned around to find an elder human sitting in a chair behind the stall. Zimkar was furious he hadn't noticed the man before. The man spoke again, "You can have it if you like, you just have to do me one small favor" Zimkar said nothing, the man spoke again, more quietly that before. "If not my friend Captain Avora would be very interested in my story of tonight's events." Avora… the captain of the guard, this was bad, very bad. "What's the favor?" Zimkar asked.

"There's someone who I need gone. An old acquaintance who's become quite the thorn in my side of late." 'Gone' Zimkar knew what the man meant, it wasn't exactly discreet, but Zimkar could be… He was young and naive, and really wanted that hat.

"Who's the acquaintance?"

Zimkar regretted the deal he had made as soon as the deed was complete. As he pulled his rapier from the elderly man's rib cage the eyes of a young human girl stared back at him from behind a crate at the end of the alley, twice in one week.. he was getting careless. He knew what he should do, the girl was alone and by the looks of it didn't come from money–no complications there–and yet, staring into those eyes he couldn't bring himself to. He ran out of the alley and slipped into the crowds in the lower city. Just a few minutes later he heard the whistle of the town guard, they'd found the body. No matter, he was already mixed in with the crowd and far away from the scene. A few moments later, a deep sound began echoing out from the town wall, the city alarm, not good. The town alarm was never sounded for murder there would be an investigation, he'd lay low for a few days but it always blew over… unless the man he'd killed was not just some 'acquaintance', very not good. Who did he just kill? The city guard sprinted to all exits of the city, it was going on lock-down.

Still he could lay low and things would probably wash over, it's not like anyone saw… gods the girl. The guards must have picked her up in the alley, very very not good. Zimkar started to panic now, the guards have formed a large perimeter around the crime scene, a perimeter Zimkar was now inside of. They began to advance, constricting the circle. Shit, shit, shit. Clumsily, he reached for the hat, anything to disguise his appearance even just a little. He put the hat on, but knew it would do little good to prevent him from being identified.

Zimkar closed his eyes and wished, wished like he'd never wished before to be someone else, anyone else, even that old merchant. He opened his eyes, and… he couldn't believe his eyes, he blinked again, and again but it didn't change what he saw. He stared in disbelief at his his paws, they were gone… replaced by human hands spotted with age, and his cloak was… it was that of the merchant.

Zimkar laughed, uncontrollably as the tension throughout his body loosened. This was no ordinary hat…

Despite slipping through the guard checkpoints without issue thanks to the hat of disguise, Zimkar knew he still needed to leave town. The day after the assassination had revealed that the man Zimkar had killed was a powerful political diplomat visiting the city, and the town guard was called upon in full force to find a catfolk matching his description. He quickly gathered what few belongings he had and set off, frequently changing his appearance to avoid any recognizable pattern. He was careful this time, not leaving any trace of the places he'd been, even still he decided it was too risky to say goodbye to his family or friends, whatever mess he had gotten himself into, they didn't deserve to be dragged into.

He left town the next night and never looked back. The hat of disguise that he had gotten paid it's worth in gold. Over the following years he traveled from town to town doing con-jobs for a big score and leaving in the night. Occasionally he took assassination jobs, but now with the careful and methodical calculation that he would later become known for.

Then one day, while enjoying the fruits of his last job, Zimkar heard word of an opening within the Silver Claw. It would be steady work, he'd no longer need to live in exile and he could finally make a name for himself doing what he had become so good at.