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My name is Fix. Not my real name of course but it has been such a long time since I was called by any other name that I don't remember myself the name my mother gave me. I have heard many whispers about your clan while skulking in the shadows and relieveing those arrogant ne'er do wells of their ill gotten gains. I have to say the more I hear about you the more I feel that I would like to join your merry band. I have already met some of you briefly and you are all so highly skilled, I feel there is much I can learn from you.
I have never belonged to any clan before or any group in fact. Had no real friends before and little opportunity to make them. My memory is somewhat clouded, perhaps deliberately but I shall try to recount as much as I can of my short life. Most of what I hold to be true is contained in a tattered, leather bound journal, opened I believe, by my Father and compounded over the years in my own inimitable scrawl.
Although I have no personal recollection of the event, contained in the journal is the chronical of a plague which befell our village. My Father apparently had suspicions of the plague being brought to our village intentionally from an Orc settlement on the far side of the island. Slowly friends and relatives began to die. All are listed with dates and names. The final entry was that of my mother. I have no idea how old I was but I have no memory of either of my parents and I presume the entries stopped as my Father met with the same fate.
My earliest memories are of my Mother's sister and her husband. I learned much from my Aunt although she refused to speak of my parents or the people of my village. I saw my Uncle only at evening meals. He never once said a single word to me.The house was always silent when he was around. My Aunt died when I was 8 Cherrins. A pouch of gold changed hands and I began life in new surroundings.
I spent the next 10 Cherrins in a port city. I served a captain and crew of 18 who never went to sea. They gave me no name but Fix was how they addressed me. Whatever needed doing, I had to Fix it. They taught me nothing but I learned every day. I learned to take what I needed without being seen. I learned how to open the lock on the door to the cupboard where they kept me when noone was around. I learned to hide without fear of discovery when they returned home and the air became rancid with the stench of ale and whisky. I also learned that death did not always come only through disease or old age but rather could be visited on the unsuspecting without hope of compassion.
They disgusted me. Outlaws every one. All had death warrants issued in their names although noone was brave enough to enforce them. They slaughtered their hapless victims with impunity and made a fine living by doing so. A trait not lost on me.
I lived in this manner until 2 seasons ago. I wanted so badly to leave but I knew escape was impossible. While they breathed they would hunt me. I decided to use some of the information I had gleaned while hiding and watching them. They were able to kill even in a drunken stupor by landing a single blow to their victims with a razor sharp dagger. They achieved this by coating the daggers with a substance they made from flower petals and kept in a bottle in a locked cabinet. They called it poison.
I knew what had to be done. I prepared a boar which had been roasting for 2 days. I disabled the lock to the cabinet on only my second attempt. I removed the bottle and began to taint the boar through small punctures made by my newly poisoned dagger. I had no idea how much would be required so I used almost all of it, making sure to coat the boar with wyvern's blood to disguise the taste.
They devoured the feast like demons and within a minute noone breathed. I was finally free. I came out of hiding and felt a rough hand grab my neck from behind and slowly a red hot pain ripped my side. I didn't understand I made a grab for the area of the pain and felt the blade of a dagger in my side. I pulled back hard on the hilt and thrust behind me as hard as I could. The captain fell dead at my feet.
I fled, now I the outlaw. I hid on a ship leaving the harbour. I stemmed the bleeding but I knew that death would come. It did not matter, I was free, no more a victim.
I came to in a merchant's shop, still hidden in the torn sack I'd found on board the ship. Noone was around. I staggered out into the street staying in the shadows. I fell into a doorway and looked up to find a man smiling at me and muttering in a language I couldn't understand. He touched my brow and the pain was gone. The wound was gone. I was alive and I was well. His name is Crippen and I now count him among my dearest friends. He nudged me in the direction of the thieve's guild saying my talents could be put to good use there and that I would find others there like me.
The first member I met on joining was Jewel. She helped me immensely and asked nothing in return. Midnightrogue helped me improve some of my skills and again asked nothing of me. I wandered around the city and met a wizard called Neve. She also helped me and asked for nothing. All Sisters of Shadows. The generosity you showed me surpised and delighted me. I now wish to be part of that. If you will have me of course.
And a warning to any warrior-killer types. I may be small but I still have the dagger and the bottle. If you cross me do nae sleep and do nae blink for I will steal your last breath.
Quick Fix D'Anhouux
Victim No More
Router of Greed
Blink and ya dead
Never forget revenge tastes sweeter the second time
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