Back story before the adventure begins:
I’m told that I was dropped off on the temple door steps in the middle of the night in a small town. I’m told it was a new moon. I am also told that I was wearing an enchanted silver necklace of great value. Of course, the priests and priestesses took me in. Who could have resisted the adorable, little, chubby, scaly baby I must have been. The Desna worshipers must have thought it was an omen or some crap. I just think it was ironic. One of the young priests-in-training made off with the necklace a week later, or at least he disappeared at the same time and a new, rich, young man appeared in the next town over.
Anyway, I was raised under the strict rules of nuns. Lots of ruler to knuckle action. Lots of smacks to the back of the head. Lots of cleaning and praying. So, I tried to stay out of the temple as much as possible. Nuns are strict and watchful, so I only got away about half the time. When I did manage to slip away, I would usually talk to the homeless people who came to us for food and such. I would also sleep a lot in the day so I could stay up at night and look at the stars. My duties as a little nun-ette included caring for the travelers, hungry, and wounded that came in. We were in an area that got a lot of travelers. A lot of them talked about the adventures they had, the wonders that were out there.
The story that caught me the most was told by a scholarly looking man. He had been roughed up by some bandits on the road and was in pretty bad shape when he came to us. He said he was on his way to the city to do research and didn’t have what the bandits were looking for. All he had were these charts of the stars and a telescope. I have always been captivated by the stars, so I couldn’t stop asking him questions. He said that he was looking for someone that could build his idea of a giant telescope that could see the heavens even better than the one he had on him.
All the stories of adventure were simply too much to resist for the curious, young girl I was; that I am.
So I ran away. I ran away from the temple, out into the big, scary world. I had been raised by nuns and had religious garb, so I could usually pass myself off as a cleric or something like for a while. It didn’t last forever though. I didn’t know what I was doing and ended up in a lot of bad situations. Situations that put me on the streets a lot of the time. That is where I ended up making friends with the less desirables of the world. The beggars, the lepers, the outcasts. They taught me to beg, and to listen. They taught me where to hide, and where the warmest places to sleep were. They taught me how to steal.
Ah, to steal.
I wasn’t always so good at that.
Was it about three years ago? One night, after a particularly satisfying round of pick-pocketing, some teenagers jumped us. I guess I didn’t do as well as I thought I did. Beardo, Patchy, and I were just keeping warm around a fire under a bridge, enjoying the food and booze we just acquired. They were just trying to scare us at first I think, but they saw an opportunity when they spotted me, a weak, fifteen-year-old girl, who obviously wouldn’t have anyone asking after her. My friends got away, but I wasn’t so lucky. They beat me. They held me in their cellar for days, and did terrible things. They gave me my scars, the one on my leg, the reason I limp everywhere. I already had a pretty bad infection, but they didn’t make it any better. Living on the streets gets you into a lot of shit, but being in that dark hole, I was honestly not sure I would ever see the stars again. By then my friends managed to track them down. Bless their souls. My captors sure didn’t see that coming. I didn’t. Beardo, Patchy, and a couple other of my friends rescued me. They came back for one of their worthless brethren, the wanderers.
It was a strange sight. Lying on your back with the door opening upside-down and the light blinding you, and people rushing around, and being stepped on, and being picked up by a dirty, tattered man, and rushed out into the blinding light outside. Beardo killed one of my captors in the process. They had means in the city, and as such had the means to prosecute him to the highest degree, or whatever the term is. He was executed in the town square. But no one cared about what happened to me in that hell. Who cares about a maimed beggar girl?
I wasn’t going to stay in that city after that. I spent a year or so on the road, jumping on the back of caravans when possible, limping when it wasn’t, mapping out stars, or trying to, scrounging for food, sleeping in the cold. Finally, I made it to Tirth. I managed to impress the priest at the Desna temple there with my knowledge from my previous life as a nun, or at least he felt sorry enough for me to give me a room and a meal. After that, I practiced my divine casting that I picked up with the nuns. I also started to notice that I didn’t leave foot-prints on the ground and could do some other strange magic-ish things. I mostly kept that stuff secret. Element of surprise or something.
Now I beg with the beggars. And always share my food and drink with my cast-aside brothers. I pray at the temple. I try my best to heal clumsy pickpockets, and hide them when they need it.
Don’t leave behind your brothers.