[X] Gonia, where gold and connections prove your worth. (Mercantile Kingdom; King is a great diplomat; Controls most of the circulation of gold in Kwethe; No real Military except mercenary companies; Only those with money and connections have any real power)
[X] Bare Fists. Where other races have scales, claws and teeth, you have your STRONG DWARF MUSCLES to rely on. It's easy to underestimate a unarmed Dwarf and consider them a non-threat, but what most people don't realize is that said Dwarf can snap their necks and yank them to the ground if the opportunity presents itself.
[X] A Raven's Claw Seal. (Hired Assassin; Pick your missions as you see fit; Start with Friends in Low Places; Not easy to track down; Easy for you to disappear if needed; Income Fluctuates based on jobs taken; Considered a criminal by the Crown; Contractors may turn on you)
[X] Brozo, the Handyman
My Dear Handyman,
I hope this letter finds you well. You have my deepest of gratitude for accepting this noble task for me.
I'm sure you understand how vital returning these papers to my possession is. The power situation in Gonia is won with information after all, and I can't have any of my detractors knowing of my involvement with you.
It just wouldn't do for my public image.
The end of this document shall indicate where to drop off the items in questions. Once there, look for the woman sitting—
The letter goes on to detail the rest of the instructions on how to complete the job. You memorize every part of it, right down to the location and code phrase for the recipient. You never understood why these merchant types felt the need for such elaborate ways of completing a transaction. You guess it's supposed to make them feel better or make sure you actually finish the job.
Like you could afford to screw over a client.
Well you could, but it would be more hassle than it's worth.
You roll up the paper, reseal it, and place it on top of the stack you got from those mercenaries. The "Bloody Gulls" you think they were called. Their leader must've been something special or they were just lucky. You take great pains to make sure that you are almost untraceable, yet these guys were somehow able to find the one client who didn't follow your rule of burning all evidence of your involvement with them. Thankfully, both parties have been dealt with.
The next two scrolls are relatively simple in comparison. Someone wants you to take care of a Half-Dragon Knight who's been causing problems for a particular merchant. If the vitriolic language is any indication, this is a personal contract. That can be good for you, might allow you to get more money out of a successful assassination.
(Assassination Available!)
The other one is a….oh by the gods you hate these. One of the many nobles in the city is apparently fearing for the life of their mistress. They want someone to guide her out of the city of Flatport to Crowreach north of it. They reached out of you as they want it done "as secretly as possible". You really don't like doing these types of jobs, but the pay is normally good.
(Escort Available!)
You suppose that you would get these kinds of assignments. You do have a reputation after all.
You sigh, looking up at the ceiling as you think back on what you did that cemented you as who you were:
[] The Impossible Task. It was supposed to be a simple job. Go here, kill this guy, get out. What you didn't know was that the guy you killed was actually apart of a clandestine organization the likes of which no one had ever seen. The minute you killed him, you signed your death warrant. Everyone from Adressa to Prayla wanted you dead. Your only option was to find every last member in that group and put them in the ground. It was you in against the world, and you won. (The Dreaded)
[] The Regicide. Kwethe wasn't always split between three kingdoms. It used to be ran by a single High Queen. She ruled the land with an iron fist, milking it for every resource she could. Many tried to kill her, but all failed. But that was because they tried to attack her head on. No one had ever tried to sneak into her castle. No one ever thought of disguising themselves as the priest conducting the ceremony. No one ever thought of caving in the High Queen's chest with a single punch then running away. Not many may know it, but you are one of the main reasons Kwethe is how it is today.(The Hidden)
[] The Death of a God. Few can say that they have killed a God. Mainly because few have ever tried. Everyone sees the Gods as these larger than life creatures, the likes of which are beyond mortal understanding. The reality is, they're just people. Really old people, but still people. You proved this when the God of Destruction took possession of his Avatar in Kwethe. None could stop him, he was at the height of his power. Immortal. Yet you did. You're not sure how he didn't see you coming, but he was blind to your presence long enough for you to snap his neck. And so, the God of Destruction died, and you disappeared. Not everyone knows your name, but the Gods do. (God Slayer)
You put the other scrolls to the side and start to rise from your seat. The minute your feet hit the floor, you feel a sharp pain in your side. Your hand flies to the side of the table, being careful to not knock the inkwell onto the floor. Your other holds your right side as you wince from the pain. You almost double over onto the floor, but are able to keep yourself upright.
It takes a good five minutes before the pain passes and you're able to stand again. You're breathing hard, but get up and start moving.
What was that just now? You don't remember getting hurt. Did that kid do more damage with that tackle than you thought? No, you've felt it much earlier if that was the case. Then what was it?
Random pains. The sign of aging.
….
You need to train.
Too slow. Run it again.
You hit the switch in the floor of the training room. The gears underneath start to whirr, causing the straw, armored dummies to start moving. Four of them come at you from all sides, each wielding a wooden weapon that will leave welts and worse if you get hit. Below you, spikes come out of the ground to provide a greater challenge.
You're moving before they emerge, a quick dash towards the nearest dummy allows you moving room. Your fist connects with the helmet, adding another dent to the twenty gathered over time. You back flip over to the next dummy and repeat the process. You do the same to the remaining two.
Once the last is dead, the spikes retract and are replaced with spouts. From them blue magefire erupts forth, bathing the room in light. It illuminates the other dummies and training weapons stacked against the far walls.
You move fast, dodging through the spouts of flame with nary a single mark on your skin. The spouts stop, and from the roof a veritable rain of arrows is fired towards your location by automated crossbows. Only the most dexterous of people could possibly dodge such an attack.
You merely run up the opposite wall and push off. The bolts all land in the floor right when you land. You stand up and frown at the floor turned pincushion.
That took you two minutes to complete.
You used to be able to finish this in 20.87 seconds.
Why such a drastic—no.
Your fist clench tightly. You walk over and hit the switch again.
Your next score is two and a half minutes.
Again.
Three minutes.
Again.
Two and a half minutes.
Again.
Two minutes.
Again.
Three and a half minutes.
You stand in the center of the training room, fist clenched so tight they dig into your skin.
Your skills aren't the issue, the many broken and dented helmets around the room attest to that. You aren't injured in any way, the wound would've opened up by now. You aren't cursed, that's happened to you enough times to know if that was the case.
No, there's only one explanation.
You're getting old.
The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You scream in rage, your voice echoing throughout the empty room. Then you fall to the ground fist hitting the floor beneath you first. You stare at the wood below you for a time, letting it all sink in.
You're dying.
You always knew that it was gonna happen, but you didn't think it would be so soon.
You figured you had a good two hundred more years on you.
It can't be coming this soon.
Your thoughts shift between many different things this could affect. From your job, to your contacts, to your home. But it all comes back to one thing.
Your secret.
The thing absolutely no one else but you know about.
The reason you can't die.
[] The Grandmaster. You are the last in a line of students of a legendary martial arts style. It is one of the most deadly and secretive martial arts in all of Kwethe. It allows you to not only completely disappear from your target's perception, but the most senior and powerful of the acolytes are said to be able to attack a target from anywhere, anyplace, anytime. You are one of these masters, and it is all true. There used to be fifteen of you in total. But you were hunted down one by one, considered a danger to the Kingdom with the amount of power you wielded. Now you are the last. And you can't let the style be lost to time.
[] A Storm is Coming. You have glimpsed the future and it is a dark one. Something is coming. Something terrible. No one will be able to stop it. Even if all of Kwethe, backed by the Gods themselves fight against it, they stand no chance. It is unstoppable. But for one thing. Right when it appears, it will be vulnerable long enough for the combined might of all the Kingdoms of Kwethe to destroy it. You are the only one who knows this. If you told anyone else, they wouldn't believe you. Even if they did, you doubt you could get enough clout behind you to convince the three Kingdoms to work together. And you know others would want that knowledge gone. You can't let this knowledge be lost, else the whole world will die.
[] Write In...
The first choice will determine what it is you did that made you as legendary as you are today. All the choices can defeat supernatural creatures, it's just easier for the third option.
The Impossible Task means you are John Wick. You are a dwarf of focus, commitment, and sheer fucking will. All of the Underground knows who you are, and what you have done. They all either respect you or are afraid of you. Or both. This will make it easier to call on contacts, but remember: The Past always catches up to you.
The Regicide means you are Agent 47. You were able to get in, disguise yourself, and kill your target with none the wiser. No one else knows what you did, but this means that you are someone who can get in, do a job, and get out without anyone knowing you were even there.
The Death of a God means that you are an Immortal Slayer. Your hands can kill just about anything without the need for magical aid. No matter what it is, where it comes from, or otherwise, you can kill it. Of course this also means that the Supernatural world knows of you and is wary of you.
As for the Secrets, they're self-explanatory. They're the reason you need to become a Mentor in the first place. 
