Halfling thief. Orphan. From the mean streets of St. Vicious.


(On a crumpled piece of paper floating around some alley in the slums of St. Vincent.
Dated 4 months ago)

Dear Diary,

Today is my 16th birthday. What’s that saying? Another day, another fucking copper. Except that today I am finally an adult and old enough to register at the mercenary guild, and that’s exactly what I did. It’s time to make some real money. Stealing apples, digging through garbage, and picking pockets for a few coin is just not cutting it. Every day is just a struggle to get to the next.

I want a different life. Some roots. Some quiet. A home. Maybe even outside of the city. I don’t know, I’ve never left. Between the religious nuts and scumbags like the Stormurs, St. V is a place of dirty, decrepit misery. Some of religious houses help out the local kids but now I’m too old for them to care.

I’ve taken advantage of their “youth outreach” programs (their way of scouting the streets for future recruits), but my talent for being invisible has kept me off their radar. Basic weapons from the House of Lok, reading from the House of Egon, useful skills in my new life as a merc.

I still need to find my path. I refuse to accept the one I’m on. I know it can be better. This is an investment for a future with some stability, without fight or struggle. My own bed. Being able to BUY food. Can you imagine? But for now, I’m still young (and bored), so why not see the world and have some adventures along the way?

Here’s to the dream.


The Mercenaries of St. Vicious bsuperfine ariadne80