• Nedda let out a heavy sigh; it was about time she told her adventuring party about her rather... interesting past. Being the quiet type, words seem to stumble and trip off of her tongue rather than flow smoothly. She began simply, with the facts, things they may remember from original meetings. “I’m Nedda... well, I am now. I’m a Lightfoot Halfling, and of course I’m a Cleric.” Her tone was better suited for an alcoholic’s anonymous confession rather than her life story. “I’m a follower of Pelor” Her hand nervously brushed over her right arm... Emotions being shown? Insecurities? That’s peculiar. “A reluctant... obligatory follower you might say.” Closing her eyes for a second she recalls the less pleasant moments in her years of existence, which was the majority of them. “As an infant, I was abandoned... maybe orphaned... and survived through the kindness of Mother Nature. I was raised by various natural, untamed creatures; who would often be called beasts by an unwilling, “civilized” mind. The first to find me was harmless enough. A dire badger” A chuckle escaped her lips, her vivid green eyes becoming bright.
    “They helped me survive the first few years of my life, mainly because I was raised as a kit, accepted into the litter. Eventually I had to leave though... Mom threatened to kill me when she realized I wasn’t a badger of any sort, and I was adopted into a colony of beavers. The dire beavers allowed me to stay until I became too big for their dam. Eventually, as one would expect, a few travelers happened upon me and had quite a shock when they realized I was completely uneducated and uncivilized. I was called everything from a hooligan to an animal. They hastily forced me to reform and adjust to their way of life, to what they thought was proper. And it was only after they cleaned the 12 years of mud and earth off of me that they found my calling.” A frown formed on her cherry red lips, though her eyes were impossible to read from the angle which everyone in the party saw her at. Pulling up one oversized sleeve to show her slender arm she revealed a patch of skin that was darker than the rest on her wrist. It formed a simple sun, the sign of Pelor.
    “Its Halfling lore that one born with such a mark, a mark of any god, is destined to serve them for as long as their lives continue. And rather than going to school with the rest of the children my age, I was put into a temple to be taught by the Radiant Servants, Pelor’s high priests, and started my treacherous journey towards becoming a Cleric under the sun god. It wasn’t long before my youthful, rowdy spirit got me into trouble with my masters, and soon enough I was being punished for the innocent pranks I played, such as dying their robes and hiding their belongings. And before I knew it the only time I wasn’t being supervised was well... never. I couldn’t stand the pressure, I couldn’t stand the expectations or their eyes constantly watching me... so one day, I happened to slip some precise, carefully calculated, meticulously measured, herbs into their evening meal. They were so trusting that it was easy to give them a minor case of food poisoning or make them fall into a deep, sound sleep. Giving me the perfect amount of time to gather my belongings... and some souvenirs. “A sly smirk took its place firmly on her expression as she recalled her cunning escape in flawless detail.
    “No one in the town knew who I was when I crossed the threshold between religion and urban life. The town was booming with excitement, people, smells, sights, sounds and so much more! My eyes were darting from place to place, trying to identify and record every miniscule, insignificant detail. Before I knew it I was stumbling my way through the crowds to the market. Bewildered by the sheer quantity of merchandise I was compelled to explore the vivacious bazaar. My fingertips slid past every object they could reach in the small Halfling town, tracing the intricate etchings and smooth vessels. Catching a scent I whipped my head around to find a fruit stand, all of the ripe flesh of the brightly colored food emitting a most wonderful aroma. I simply had to have it, I had only ever had bark, berries, grasses, rice, and flavorless vegetables, I had to devour this fruit of the heavens or I felt I might explode.” Her tone had steadily been becoming more urgent, her rhythm more rapid, and she suddenly stopped and glanced up at the listeners. “That’s when I became a thief.”