While I had time to just think and not write, it occured to me I have never told anyone any of this...and for my own ..well, for my own purposes, I feel I should have it somewhere. Ignoring it doesnt make it not true.

I've been asked about my past many a time, of the time before my face flamed across the sky as I became what I am, as I am sure have you all. I've never bothered to recount it before now, it's existence does not make my future nor present, nor will it make for thrilling reading, I have no great tale of woe and triumph, no huge epic of battle and war, I have just life, just what was my life.

I always named myself an orphan, as do many others in Valorn, which in itself is not surprising, death has taken something from us all at some point. However, I guess orphan is not strictly truth, except perhaps in the broadest term of the word. I know who..knew, who my family were, it wasnt a secret, they werent royalty, nor merchants, they werent farmers nor smiths, they werent much of anything but commoners, as commoners are. I was the unwanted by-product of too many nights needing comfort. As is wont when there are already too many mouths to feed, people take the only way out they know, and dumped me at the orphanage, the little said the better, as in truth, my life there was a darn site better than it would have been with my ..family. But the streets of Dundee are piled high with the unwanted spawn of war starved families, and I was gone from the orphanage at perhaps..6 winters. It is what it is, many of you were dealt the same hand I have no doubt, and my recount of life is not for sympathy, but purely because..perhaps it is time I had a little depth to myself.

Life on the streets, it's not something you can explain to its entirety, you have to be a guttersnipe to understand a guttersnipe I guess. Yes, I stole, I cheated, I did things I will never put to paper, nor ever tell a soul. Life on the streets is...well it's hell, Im sure there is worse but it is what it is. Theres a sort of law, even at 6 you learn it, quickly. It's not something that comes over the passage of time, but in the blink of an eye. The streets are your closest friends and your worst enemies. You make acquiantances, people you seek shelter with and pick pockets with; while you are all down together, you all make your way. The second your back is turned they will have a blunt old carving knife through your gullet and your last hunk of bread from your lips as they walk away, and not lose one nights sleep over it. There is no code of justice, there are no guards or jail. It's you and just you. The law stands, keep a close eye on your belongings and a closer on that of your neighbour, if his go up, you can bet your last crumb, yours have gone down.

Sleep comes hard, you fear your enemies, more you fear your friends. No one notices a few lost urchins as the raids pile in, far from run to the defense of the town, I ran from it. Im not ashamed to admit it either. A dirty little girl, with rags for clothes and naught but an old rusty dagger for protection, was ignored by the mighty and scooped up by the demons. I was not about to be offal for the demons thank you very much. So I hid when the calls came and the hooves and feet trembled along the paths. I would watch from beneath the sewer grate as battle ensued, all manner of weapon, spell and poison. It scared me far more than my little life on the streets, all these men and women, so bold, so far removed from my little zone of..comfort. There are worse fates, people will trade in whatever can be bought and sold, and people will buy anything and everything...there are much worse fates than death to be had.

I know many of you spent childhood on the streets, none of this is new to you, none of this something you havent heard and lived through a thousand times over. I made a living through means..yes, means is what we shall call it, and living is a broad term. Im laughing as I write, it wasnt the best years of my life, but by all accounts it could have been far worse, I dont grumble about it. Im not dead, Im alive, breathing and well. It doesnt haunt my dreams, I've accepted where and what I come from, and I dont waste time lamenting over a lost youth, childhood is meant for some and not for others. We have to pick the best of our lives and concentrate, acknowledge the crap, deal with it and move on.

I guess in hindsight I should have been a roguess, I had talents that went that way, I suppose. I was in Dundee one day, minding my own..well okay minding someone elses business, and the most enchanting lady caught my eye, she had an aura about her. I'll not write her name, though I remember her distinctly. I wanted that, to be more than guttersnipe.

So now I am...well, now I am guttersnipe in a red robe; still an urchin, but at least an urchin who doesnt have to walk.