I have lived in the Crossing all of my life. I was born on the 18th day of the 8th month of Skullcleaver the Dwarven Axe in the year of the Bronze Wyvern, 337 years after the victory of Lanival the Redeemer. Obviously I was there, but I don't remember much about it. I will tell you that from that day until the day my father died, I had a very rough life. Please do not ask his name, that is one thing I will never speak of. I will simply say. . . my mother, in all her wonder, had one major flaw-- she was not a great judge of character. As much as I detest him, I suppose I do owe him a bit of thanks for showing me the kind of fellow I do not want to be.

My father was very brutal. Being the only child, I caught most of his wrath. He was not your typical cheerful Halfling. Perhaps this was a result of his upbringing. His family was from Riverhaven and they were very hard workers, often spending days at a time in the fields. Anyway, my father wanted to force this work ethic upon me and well. I am a bit stubborn, or so I have been told, and when I did not follow my father's orders it got really nasty.

I know some of you are wondering why I didn't just obey him and not make trouble. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong! It was almost as if he needed something to bark about. When I did as I was told he would have to find something else. That something else was naturally my mother since no one else was around. I could not allow that. My mother was without a doubt one of the kindest li'l ladies around.

We were not very well off so we did without a lot of things. "We" meaning my mother and I. What extra wealth we did have was wasted away when my father would spend his nights at the local taverns and inns. My mother went without the finer things in life, and often without food because she would prepare the last bit of food for me, her only child.

Eventually I decided I had to find a way to help her. There must be something I could do. Being so small, I assumed hunting was not the path for me. One day, on my way home, I passed the caravan of one of the local wealthy traders. Being a Halfling, naturally I was curious. I crouched between two buildings so as not to frighten the large animals and get trampled.

After a few moments the trader emerged from the shop, greedily counting his coins. Suddenly and without a second thought, I slipped behind him, carefully reached my hand into his bulging pockets, and grabbed a handful of coins. Retreating to safety between the buildings, I opened my hand and discovered that I had snagged five gold kronars. I glanced back toward the trader and realized he had moved on up the street, totally oblivious to the fact that he had just been robbed.

Surprisingly, I felt no guilt. My heart was racing, but my small hands were steady. I pocketed my treasure and headed straight to the bakery. That evening, I took food home to my mother and offered little explanation as to how I had acquired it. Unable to lie to her, I simply told her that I had found some money on the street. Hey, it was sort of the truth!

As usual, my father was out doing Damaris knows what, but at least my mother went to bed well fed. I continued to bring home food and small gifts for my mother in the following months. I moved on from pickpocketing to pilfering and got more confident with each caper.

One night, unable to sleep, I heard my mother pacing the floors and cursing my father's name. I was accustomed to her weeping, but this sudden change to anger surprised me. Confident with my ability to sneak about, I decided to venture out and find my father so I could see for myself what kept him away from my mother.

I slipped out of my window and headed to the Viper's Nest Inn, since it was the closest to my home. As luck would have it, I spotted my father inside. I lurked in the shadows watching him go upstairs with several different women throughout the night. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I remember is hearing my father shout my name. Startled, I leapt to my feet to run away. He grabbed me from behind just as I stepped into the dark alley. He threw me to the ground and began to give me the beating of my life. I screamed for help as he continued to kick my broken body. In the corner of my eye I saw a figure leap out of the shadows and suddenly my father fell, a dagger embedded in his neck.

I'm not certain if I passed out from the beating or shock, but when I awoke I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings. Oddly, I felt safe as I peered around the room at the strangers seated near me. I spent several weeks here recovering from my injuries. During this time I heard many a tale of the guild of thieves, where there were pickpockets and criminals just like me, that banded together to form a brotherhood of sorts.

When I was well enough, I knew I had to return home to my mother. Upon entering my home I knew something was amiss. I called out to my mother, but she did not answer. I went into my room and found her lying dead in my bed, clutching one of my shirts. Apparently she had died grieving over her only son's disappearance. I don't remember much about the days following this. I was overwhelmed with grief, knowing my entire family was gone and I was all alone.

Thoughts of the guild of thieves and the shadowy figure that had saved my life tugged at me constantly. I managed to take care of the burial of my precious mother somehow, then I set out on a new adventure. I had to find this brotherhood. Needless to say, I did find them again. Since that day, I have learned many new skills and I have found a family in them. I am no longer alone, and with them I am no longer afraid.