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As a kid I was always very eager to help, and people said I had such a kind soul I would surely end up a priestess of Dwayna. It feels like such a long time ago. What people didn't know, or at least ignored if they knew, was that I had a hard time understanding the meaning of property. If I knew someone who badly needed something, say a hammer, and I saw one lying around, then I was so focused on helping that I completely forgot to ask the owner if it was OK for me to borrow it. The problem was that the owner probably needed the hammer, so I ended up creating problems as well as solving them. Unfortunately this became a habit and I realized how good I was at taking things without anyone noticing.
Needless to say I soon got caught. The owner knew me and didn't get angry. Actually he found it quite amusing and it simply strengthened people's image of me as the ever helpful girl who saw to people's needs no matter the cost. But then those I helped started asking where I got everything from, and I was always a bit hazy on the details, replying on the lines of "Well, around...". I figured that as long as the problem was solved then case was closed. Why was that so important where the item had come from? So while everyone still though I was adorable and kind no one would let me help them. That's when I started stealing for real. At first I did it out of spite, but then I just did it for fun. Sneaking, snatching, running away unnoticed; it was so thrilling! And that was the start of how I became, in contrast to the priestess, a thief.
I spent much of my time in the company of a gang of street kids, where my abilities were appreciated. But I I got more daring as I grew older. Picking pockets turned into burglary, and I started doing more jobs for hire; stealing, tailing, finding hiding places, mostly requiring my stealth expertise. One job offering of a quite different nature I got when I was visiting the circus. It was quite exciting, but as I was heading home before the show I ran into a work acquaintance, who told me of a job he needed me for the same evening. They had suddenly become one man short and unless they found one more the opportunity was lost. So, that left me with two choices: performing at the circus, which would be more fun, or the job, which had better pay. Alas, I needed the money and I chose the job, but it would turn out to be a mistake I would regret for the rest of my life.
We were to be an escort service, and my role was mainly scouting. But everything went wrong, terribly wrong, and before I knew it my comrades were either dead or had taken flight and I was running through the alleys with our ward, pursuers not far behind. We rushed into a warehouse. Too late I realized we were trapped, as our four of pursuers appeared in the doorway.
Violence has never come easy to me, but in the face of death it comes surprisingly easy. I drew my sword and dagger, prepared for the worst, when a fifth figure; Chadlock, stepped out of the shadows and leveled one of the pursuers with a shovel. In the confusion I tackled the nearest, bringing him to the ground and plunging my sword into his guts. I turned the fall into a dive and rolled up quickly, but the word remained in the fallen thug. Back on my feet I felt how time slowed down. Before me I saw how Chadlock, barely fending off his attacker. Strong though he was, he wasn't a trained professional and a shovel is a poor weapon against a sword. Some distance away from him was my employee, the other thug closing in on him. Desperate to save both I threw a dagger towards the thug and lunged, drawing another dagger, at the back of Chadlock's attacker. As I did so there was a flash of light from Chadlock. The flash made me misjudge my jump and I didn't get far enough to stab his attacker in the back, but the slash at his leg made enough of a distraction for Chadlock to send his teeth flying. With the threat to Chadlock eliminated I glanced up at my ward's attacker. He was falling towards the ground, faintly trailing smoke as he did. The flash from Chadlock had been a lightning bolt, but when had he learned magic? Relieved, my gaze fell upon my employer, standing in a corner with his mouth open in chock. But fear overcame my relief as I noticed the darkness flowing down his white shirt. Just below his throat a dagger hilt was visible, my dagger hilt.
He was beyond saving, and Chadlock insisted that we flee; what would it look like if we were found in the same place as murdered nobility? But I'll never forget the look of horror on the nobleman's face, as he fell to the ground, nor the blood, colouring his shirt dark. Oh, how I regret not performing at the circus. The only thing the failed job earned me was innocent blood on my hands. Will I ever be able to wash it away?
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