Roo Bean Gamwich

Surly halfling rogue

Description:

10th level neutral rogue with a few tricks up her sleeve

Bio:

My father was Rorimac Gamwich, a halfling from the town of Brownlock. He met my mother, Mimosa Montajay at the Brownlock Harvest festival where her family was visiting as traveling entertainers. My mother was beautiful and kind, a dancer and entertainer and occasional prostitute. Her spirit was ethereal, her voice flowed like water over river rocks.

My father saw her dancing and was instantly entranced by her beauty. She was a woman of few words, and when she did talk, it was always in riddles. She said she fell in love with our father’s hands. I never understood as a child because Dad’s hands were rough and callused and his fingernails were always dirty like he’d been digging up rocks. Later I understood that she loved that he was grounded. A strong and hardworking man.

My mother was well loved by her family but was outcast when she decided to stay behind with her dark and handsome but poor lover. The townspeople were not fond of Mimosa, and questioned her reasoning for marrying a poor man who was so much older than her. They were the talk of the town, the hardworking and rough older man with the young, beautiful quiet wife. They soon had a daughter, Celadine. Childbirth almost killed my mother, but she survived with the help of a somewhat unscrupulous midwife/cleric whose services were purchased by my father by agreeing to offer my sister as an apprentice/nurse for the aging midwife.

By the time I was born, Celadine was living with the cleric full-time to help her in her dying years. Celadine was almost magical with her ability to heal, and rarely stuck to the traditional potions and tinctures, always adding new things to make them more effective. Some of the townspeople were afraid of her abilities, saying that she was a witch whose unnatural powers manifested from the day of her birth when she was exposed to the same magic that kept my mother alive. Celadine was even more beautiful than my mother, if that was possible.

One day, when i was probably 6 years old, father injured his hand and two of his fingers were partially severed. Celadine was called to help. She wrapped his hand in a poultice and made him a potion to drink to ease the pain. Unfortunately, his fingers never healed completely. If he quit taking the medicine, his fingers would begin to decay. And of course as a manual laborer, my father could not afford to lose his fingers. Celadine continued to provide the potion for him, however my mother had to go back to working as a dancer and prostitute to fund the purchase of the potion’s ingredients.

This went on for some time and my sister became somewhat of a celebrity in the town. She was able to make potions that would heal just about anything. But the drug started to change my father. He would be violent one moment, and terrified of something unseen the next. One day in a jealous rage over one of my mother’s clients, he attacked my mother and in defending herself, she killed him. The townspeople were in a rage, throwing rocks at our house and breaking all the windows. They called my mother a whore, which technically was true. Having spent my whole childhood being invisible due to my sister’s celebrity, my mother’s beauty, and my father’s popularity, I was able to escape in plain sight. I don’t even think anyone knew who I was. I like it that way.

My mother was eventually murdered by a mob of townspeople, bent on revenge for my father’s death. I faded into obscurity and have been living on the streets ever since. I make do with what I can. I take what I need and I take what I want. I feel like this world owes me after what has happened to my family. I dare not contact my sister. I hardly know her but I hate her just the same. Yesterday I overheard the announcement that she was to marry the Prince and recieve the title that everyone feels she deserves. I will be leaving this town and my only known family. There is nothing left for me here. Or probably anywhere else. Perhaps I will come across the Montajay family in my travels and I will tell them the story of their family. Maybe they will see the family resemblance and welcome me into their fold. Or maybe I’ll just take what I want from them and move on.

Roo Bean Gamwich

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