Batutisz

Many years ago I was born to a family in an isolated clan of Wind Elves. I don't remember much of them as we have been separated for many years, and things have happened since then that have overlain those earlier memories. My childhood was a uneventful time, until one day when I was about 20 or so. Having wandered rather far from the clan practicing my stealth and hunting skills, I became aware of the sound of horses in the distance. This naturally piqued my curiosity, as it was quite rare that people came through the area.

Tracking the sounds to their origin, I found a horse-drawn caravan moving through the tall grasses driven by a man and woman with several others walking alongside, and trailed them for some time in an attempt to determine if they were lost. The faint conversation brought to me on the wind led me to believe that they were, and so I cautiously approached them, and struck up a conversation, offering directions and in return asking for any news I might take back with me to my people.

They asked me if I would like to come with them, and tried to tempt me with treats and promises of an easy life wandering the lands, but I flatly refused. Though my life was uneventful, I was content. They then asked if I was hungry and offered to share their meal with me, as they were about to stop. The noon sun was hot and the horses needed to be watered and rested.

I accepted as I had wandered away from home without remembering to bring food and drink with me, and shared their excellent stew and red wine in gratitude, but soon felt drowsy and fell asleep where I sat. When I next awoke I found myself in the back of wagon that sparked no recognition in my mind, and when I moved to the window to peer out, the view was that of a forest I was unfamiliar with, and nowhere near my home. Someone must have caught the movement behind the wavy and bubbled panes of glass, for a group came and opened the wagon's door, then darted in and brought me out with much laughter and frivolity.

They took me to their leader, a human man so old as to be almost ancient in appearance. They left me with him, but I noticed they lingered nearby, affecting a casual indifference to me and the man. The old man looked me over, then began to speak at length, telling me of his long association with magics, in particular his affinity for the moons, and also of his people's tendency towards tricks and illusions, games of chance and slight of hand. He glanced me at piercingly then told me I shared that same affinity, that I too could harness the power of the moons. He was insistent that I should be inducted into his Guild, that this talent not be wasted.

I shook my head in disbelief and denial, moving away from him slowly, and backing right into the arms of the group I had forgotten about. Swiftly, but with much laughter, the group hustled me back into the wagon, locking the door behind them as they left, leaving me to myself. A search of the wagon revealed nothing I could use to effect an escape, and I resigned myself to this captivity for the time being. As we traveled I was well taken care of. Those who brought me meals often stayed to talk with me or show me tricks, relieving me of some of the interminable boredom of being locked in that wagon, but always when they asked, I refused their offers to join.

Finally we arrived at a bustling town, Crossing I was told, and I was brought to one of the current guild leader's scribes, who asked me to join. Once again I refused, and the scribe motioned to two guards, who then dragged me off to a cell that had been especially prepared for me. As I later learned, the gypsy leader had sent word on ahead of me, and of my stubborn refusals. The cell was more of a cave than anything, deep in the rock below the guild, and home to numerous bats. I felt some sense of irony about those bats, it seemed like such an obvious play on my name for them to be there.

For the next 30 or so years one of the scribes would stop by asking me to join, but I always refused. After that, they simply stopped asking and left me there, experimenting on me for the next 300 years, deeming me a lost cause to the Guild. It took that long for me to escape -- I do not care to describe exactly how -- and I hid out for several months from the Moon Mages, considering my options. I knew going home was not a path I could choose, so I turned to the other established guilds in Crossing, with no success. Finally, the Guild of Thieves allowed me to join and the rest... is present.