Short, blond gal with piercing blue eyes – think Naomi Watts in King Kong:
This background is what Emily has written in the book (diary) she's carrying round. Starting out she's caked in mud with hair matted and brown-looking. She's wearing a peasants outfit (the cheapest clothing in the PHB) and aside from the diary has a dagger, a belt pouch and a pen.
My name is Emily and I'm about to die.
Whilst that may seem needlessly dramatic, it is, in fact, the case. You could say life hasn't been good to me recently. I'm writing this in the hope whoever finds me will tell my parents what happened to me. Perhaps I should start from the beginning...
I was born some twenty years ago to Rodney Watts, renowned wandering minstrel. Not that he traveled under that name of course – through the courts and music halls he was known as Stragen the Wanderer, but I knew him as Dad. I remember the long winter evenings when he'd sing me and my mother to sleep whilst strumming on his lyre. That was back before... but I'm getting ahead of myself.
Dad wasn't around a great deal. He was very good at his job and in constant demand. That kept him traveling from court to keep, although he always managed to come home for our birthdays. I think he liked the excuse to have a holiday and it kept his audience wanting more. Mum was left to tend the house. She used to spend her time weaving blankets for the local poor people. Dad made enough that she didn't have to work herself so life at home was pleasant and laid back; I got on well with Mum. She taught me to dance and to speak the language of the elves. I even learned to write a little poetry, although I never really saw the point of that.
Generally I enjoyed my childhood. True, school was a drag but I was a quick and able scholar and my parents were very proud of me when I brought home a prize from the school run by the monks of Pelor. Mother kept me away from magic though. I always found it fascinating, but whenever I tried to make little glowing orbs, I found myself pealing potatoes and emptying the rubbish. I never succeeded, which was probably a good thing. I can't help feeling my punishment might have been a lot worse had I done so.
More fun than school were the friends I made. Jane's Dad, Hesa, was a merchant, so she taught me to tell the price of things people were selling and spot when they were lying to me. I developed quiet an affinity for trade – pretty good at flashing a smile and increasing the price by a few percent. And having a good head for figures didn't hurt either. Hesa even gave me a job – something to do when school wasn't happening. Overall this was good thing. Much as I wanted to follow in Dad's footsteps, I had proved during his music lessons to be tone-deaf. Dad never said so, but I could tell he was disappointed. I could still dance though and when I was of an age I managed to convince him to take me along on a journey to court. Mum wasn't very happy but Dad decided I had to see the world some day.
My first journey took me to the Baron's court. There I watched my Dad recite stories and sing whilst playing the lyre. He even let me dance a little and apparently I went down well. I certainly caught the eye of one lad – a knight by the name of Joshua Keynan. He told me he was also one for the path of adventure; traveling the lands, living off his sword and ridding the land of evil. He wanted me to go with him. Of course, when he heard my father chased him off but the seeds were sown.
Over the next few years I did my best to attend court as much as possible. Sometimes Josh was there, sometimes not. When he was he always had a cheery smile and new tale of faraway lands to tell. I certainly had Dad's wanderlust in me and I was determined to see the world, even though it was clear I wasn't going to be able to do it singing my way from court to court. Josh thought this was a great idea and finally, after much cajoling, he persuaded Dad to let me travel with him. I think his charm and tales of bravery won him over in the end, plus Dad clearly realised I was going to wander sooner or later and keen we didn't part under a cloud of argument. Anyway, if I was going to wander, Josh was a good person to go with – he'd already demonstrated his ability with the blade, winning tournaments against the best of the local knights.
Our adventures were very exciting. We rescued children from the mountain forts, manned by orcs. We hunted wolves plaguing villages. Throughout it all, Josh kept me safe and taught me to fight. Personally I always preferred using a shortsword to anything bigger but I kept that as secret as possible as he was sweet. Josh looked after me well – he managed to negotiate us our room and board and was frequently given gifts for our heroic services. I was very proud of him. He tried to teach me some of the ways of adventuring, although most of the time he kept me away from the difficult decisions and negotiations., but this was probably a good thing. I never understood why sometimes we walked away from people who seemed very good and honorable, whereas other times we couldn't be more helpful to people who seemed to be the cause of the local troubles. Josh, who was clearly much better at reading people than I, always told me I'd understand one day and I was glad he was their to show me the error of my ways.
Our travels lasted for almost a year before things started going wrong. Josh became more distant and spent increasing amounts of time away from me organising our travels. Those travels started to take us further from civilisation and into darker areas. We met with strange individuals who helped Josh in his search for the power to do good. Quite why many of these individuals were hiding in crypts was never fully explained by Josh, but he assured me they were friends so I was happy to believe him. Eventually, however, he stayed out all night and the following day I was woken up by the sounds of lawmen breaking down the door to our room. I was arrested and charged with being Josh's accomplice. I said of course I was, and I was proud to have helped all those people. Clearly there had been some kind of misunderstanding, but they kept questioning me and asking about bandit raids and kidnapping and thefts. Eventually they realised I knew nothing of these things and after questioning me under divine power I was released. Josh had yet to reappear, so I decided to spend the few days before he did getting to know my way around the current city.
A fortnight later, and with my meagre supplies of money more than exhausted I realised Josh had probably been sidetracked on some great quest. I had made some friends in the merchants quarter and figured it was about time to try earning some cash. I could easily leave notes wherever I travelled so when Josh came back for me, he could track me down and we could continue helping the needy. I had been a good trader when I was younger and I found I hadn't lost the gift. Manilin, the elderly fellow I took up with was delighted with my performance and we got on well.
That was a year ago. In the intervening time I travelled the land, trading with Manilin and helping make a great deal of money. When he retired a month ago, he left me more than enough cash to start my own trading firm and carry on with the life he'd shown me.
That, of course, leaves you asking why you've found this book on a frozen corpse in a gutter covered in mud. Well, that happened a couple of months ago. I had been doing very well – I had my own cart filled with exciting things to sell and I'd found that being young and female meant that while the older men weren't taking me seriously I could make quite a profit from them without them realising. I had just rolled into town and I was spending the evening in an inn before going to work the next day. It was the town I had lost Josh in around a year previously and as usual I asked around, seeing if he had returned from whatever noble quest had called him away. It was some time into the evening when I saw him – and he had changed a little. He was wearing a long black cloak and he had a new longsword at his hip with a large skull on the pommel. There was a girl on his arm wearing dark leather armour and carrying a mace casually at her waist. I was overjoyed! He had come back into my life! I got up and went straight over. He was understandably taken aback – I had grown as a person since he had last seen me. Still, he was happy to see me and we spent the evening talking. I was introduced to Cassandra, the dark haired woman who didn't speak a great deal. He told me of some of their adventures over the last year – it seemed they had been doing well and making quite a profit from it all. I told him about the trading and he seemed very interested in the whole enterprise. When I asked if I could travel with them for a while Josh suggested we headed to the capital city for extra profit. This sounded like a good start so we travelled south. It was further away from home than I'd ever been before, but I was just happy to be travelling with Josh again. Even if he did spend a lot of time talking to Cassandra, and less to me than I'd have liked.
On reaching the city, we spent quite some time selling my wares. We sold more than I normally would, but Josh assured me this was the way things were done in the capital and I was happy to go along with his experience. When we had nothing left, Josh made me sell my cart. I got a good price for it, but I admit I felt a little naked. It was the first time I'd been without means to support myself in quite some time and I wasn't sure what to expect next.
I didn't have long to wait.
The morning after selling my cart I awoke with a shock as three men stormed broke into my room. They grabbed me and put a chain around my neck, hands and legs and shoved me into a large sack. I think after that I blacked out because the next thing I knew, I was in the cellar of some building or other being spilled out of the sack. Beside me was a big, burly man who began pawing at me, looking at my teeth, poking muscles and shouting what he found to the room. As I struggled I saw Josh off to one side. At his belt he had my purse with all my worldly monies, and he was negotiating with a cruel-looking man. I'm not sure, but I think money changed hands. Then he walked out – I didn't see him again after that. The men dragged me in chains out a different exit and through the underground passageways where they stuffed me into another sack and, by the sounds of things, locked the sack in a box. It was certainly hot and stuffy in there.
The next couple of weeks were hell. I was loaded onto a cart and only allowed out the bag to eat the stale bread and cheese they gave me, and for bathroom breaks. I cried the entire time, until I was beaten savagely and told to shut up. After that I forced myself into silence, weeping softly. Life had been going so well, and I had no idea what had happened to make things go so wrong. What had happened to Josh to make him do this to me? I thought hard and as I worked back I realised he might not have changed as much as I thought. The faces of all the people we walked away from when they were asking for help came back to haunt me, as did the gifts Josh received from grateful people. People who often looked as if they couldn't afford such gifts now it came to it. And people who, on recollection, weren't looking as happy about receiving help as perhaps they should have done. These realisations did little to make me feel better.
Eventually we reached a town. I was released and put to work. All cried out and exhausted I couldn't do anything but obey. Thankfully, if such a word could be applied to my situation, they worked out I am educated so I wasn't put into the workhouse, otherwise I would probably still be there now. Instead I acted as a scribe for work shift leaders, taking notes and doing my best to avoid beatings. This meant I had a little more freedom than those chained in the factory and gradually over my weeks imprisonment learnt where I was expected to be and, more importantly, when I was left alone. My year spent trading hadn't been entirely benign – I'd met and befriended all kinds of people. In one town a locksmith had taught me to play with locks and been very impressed how quickly my nimble fingers had learned to pick them. I spent quite some time finding a small piece of wire I could use to pick my chains, but eventually I was ready.
I probably should have spent a little longer thinking through my escape route; planning what I was going to do next and where I would go. Frankly though I had no idea where I was and my owners didn't exactly encourage questions from their slaves and I certainly wasn't going to stick around a moment longer than I had to. As soon as I was able I picked the locks around my limbs, took the notebook I'd been given as scribe and fled the workhouse.
I ran for a week, living off scraps I found along the way before finally finding my way, starving, caked in mud and exhausted to another small town. This small town in fact. The town where I am going to die. I've tried finding work, but nobody is interested in hiring a dying beggar. I have nothing to build from and even my dreams have abandoned me. So here I'm going to die, alone and in a gutter.
If this reaches you Dad and Mum I love you and I'm sorry I failed so utterly in the world. I should have seen through Josh. I should have been stronger when he reappeared and not let him take such advantage of me. I should be able to pick myself up now. But I can't see how. I have nothing to my name and no skills that can help me – I can't even sing properly. And I think it's for that I'm most sorry Dad, because I've let you down even more.