Shylocke Keyward

Son of the late D'Orick Keyward, previous Sheriff of Luskan


Billy Club/Nightstick : This item once belonged to his father, D’orick Keyward, previous Sheriff of Luskan. It bares the mark of the office he once held, “Property of Luskan Sheriff’s Office”. It also appears to have a customized inscription reading a single phrase “Pashtunwali”. It is unknown to the party that may have seen this inscription, whether it was there before or after Shylock took possession of it.

Ceremonial Discharge Dagger : This item too once belonged to Shylocke’s father. D’orick was a decorated soldier and officer in the Brothers War. After his honorable discharge he was presented with this officers dagger. While the dagger was likely presented dull, to avoid potential injury during the ceremony, it has since been sharpened as if prepared to be used.


Shylocke had a simple childhood. A mother who was a practiced healer and had a high constitution, and a father who had a keen sense of his surroundings and sharp eye for detail. He grew up hearing stories about how the two met on the battlefield, his father bringing in long time friend Saxby Copperpot to treat a festering foot wound. It was love at first sight, as Saxby laid in muted pain, D’orick and his future wife shared pleasantries as she dressed the wound. Over the last few months of the war, D’orick wrote her from many of his camps as his the armies moved around. His letters were happily returned and after his discharge orders were given he sought her out and made her his wife.

They settled in D’orick’s hometown of Luskan, D’orick finding a home putting his military experience to good use as an officer of the Luskan Guard, his wife as the local surgeons’ nurse practitioner. After a few short months of settling down they found themselves expecting a child, who would be a boy named Locke. Locke was precocious and astute even at a young age. Constantly inquiring about the how’s and why’s of life. D’orick spoke of Locke lovingly filled with pride as he watched him grow. As D’orick found success in the Luskan Guard, he was recruited by the office of the Luskan Sheriff as a deputy. Within his first few investigations D’orick had found a passion, helping those in Luskan that needed it the most, his wife inspired the best in him.

As Locke came of age, he started to visit his father after school and pick up on the trade. A future as a deputy under his father’s office seemed unavoidable. Just as Locke was turning 16, a sickness hit Luskan, brought in by port through the arid deserts from afar. Locke’s mother surrounded by the illness day in and day out fell victim to the illness as did many of the poor and unimportant members of Luskan society. It seemed poverty and overcrowding literally choked off parts of the town, in the form of this vile disease. As D’orick buried his wife, he lost his balance at home. Saxby, his now deputy, had habits that D’orick seemed to begin to share in his wife’s absence. Locke’s ability to observe and understand never changed, but slowly his father pulled away and by the time Locke was a few weeks from 18 (the age he could officially be deputized) his father seemed cold and uninterested.

Two weeks before Locke’s birthday, D’orick was working a late evening at the office. Locke found him slumped in deep thought, something he was used to, hovering over some paperwork and some mundane evidence that seemed less important than D’orick’s thoughts. The teenager noticed his father rolling his wedding band between fingers, stopping to run his thumb over the engraving inside every so often, something that he understood meant his father was in deep contemplation. Saxby, was leaning back in his chair, assuming his normal position, empty mug and feet crossed on his desk, drool staining his collar. Locke sat in silence just trying to figure out what exactly his father was figuring out, reading some of the paperwork over his fathers shoulder he couldn’t put it together himself. In a sudden jolt, D’orick jumped up, as if having an epiphany. Again the boy stood silent, expecting instruction or details from his father without having to probe. He watched his father carefully refit the wedding band on his left hand, snag his hat from the rack next to the door with his left hand and swing open the door with his right. As the door closed behind him in a dust cloud Locke remembers distinctly the last sight of his father, his forearm still visible grabbing his coat and cloak as he left the office for the last time.

Locke the following morning before the roosters woke was surprised by loud knocking. Saxby was at the front door, hat in hand, alcohol on breath, solemnly announcing D’orick’s murder.

Shylocke Keyward

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