Lightfoot Halfling Rogue: black hair, copper eyes, olive brown skin. A tattoo of a puzzle piece designating his affiliation with the “missing pieces”. Badger will never betray the community “missing pieces” that brought him up. Would like to prove his worth with the Harpers faction and some day have the honor to wear their signet ring.
Badger, a sleuth for hire (Lightfoot Halfling Rogue)
People call me Badger. It’s my business to know things and whether anyone likes it or not I make it my business.
I wasn’t always in the know though and my life began with many questions and no answers. Who were my parent(s) and why did they abandon me amidst the other home deprived denizens of the sewers was chief among them? But, all these questions were only met with shrugs and/or pity from the many others who felt their own deep sense of rejection of a close knit family. I was taken in by a group of travelers that I later learned was a small hub of a much larger community of orphans like my self and at least seven generations have transpired since our guild first began. We were initially formed when funding was cut off for two rather large orphanages causing the children living in them to band together to survive on there own. Many of the children were already accomplished pick pockets so being able to provide their basic necessities was pretty much no problem. After several years in the city many in the group desired to travel and so they took off and became a nomadic tribe of highway men and women but before departing they made a solemn oath to always take care of their homeless brothers and sisters.
We became known as the “missing pieces” and while there were egos aplenty we each understood on a deep level what it meant to feel abandoned or without an immediate family to call our own and I took the meaning that we are all just separate pieces waiting to be found. Whenever we come upon some homeless child, and there were many at that, no matter their situation we’d bring them in to join our cheery gang. We were always growing in numbers and while that was probably our greatest strength, the strength that kept us together was our policy of hoarding nothing for ourself. Property or otherwise, if it was shareable it was communal among our brethren and I quickly learned anyway that nothing could long be kept hidden from those I ran with anyway so really there was just no point. So we shared everything equally and I liked it that way, it kept everyone honest and put a stop to anyone’s need to have something “special” for themselves, a slippery slope of a habit which only ever gives an individual the misguided notion that they were somehow better or worse than anyone else in the community. Not one “piece” was more or less important than another and I understood that truth at once when a mentor of mine told me to never forget, “For our kind it’s all for one and one for all.”. It should be noted too that even if our elders have children of their own, which they’d be encouraged to do if that was their desire, they do so with the caveat that it’s not to solidify their own legacy or to produce some heir to later bestow their fortunes, but even that child too is shared and raised by all in our community. Of course no one is bound by blood to our clan and if someone or a couple decides to go off and raise a family of they’re own they are happily given a small dowery gathered together by all available and sent on their merry way.
Most everyone who took me in though seemed to take great joy in their trades and love for the life we led. Seedy acts and unlawful professions most of us employed they’d still revel and boast about their jobs and robberies heartily throughout the late night parties. I began to love my “family” and the roads between towns that we trailed along in one caravan or another as well as the rough and tumble streets both above and below the cities that my pals and I would stomp when our handlers would give us errands to run on days we weren’t being specifically coached in some art form of thievery. In only 16 years I had had many mentors and knew all the streets, both their rules and their language like the back of my hand. My home’s hearth was carved out of the figurative underworld and it was a mantle spread out so far we could touch all parts of the world. I was bound and determined to mark my name on that hearth with “Badger was here!”.
We were so large that we could find out just about anything going on anywhere in the world so while theft began as our main source of living, later generations found out that the big money was in information. Much of the knowledge we had available to us through various illicit means was something many in upper class circles had no access to and so had no other choice but to pay us handsomely for our services. It didn’t take long before my caretakers noticed that I had an uncanny natural look of innocence and possessed certain mannerisms that would provoke a feeling of trust in people to either “drop the goods” willingly if I was putting on a casual charm or like my moniker would suggest, and I must admit was aptly given although I don’t know by who, I’d just hound and pester a person until I tired the information out of them. Somehow and someway, I had a knack to get people to talk and many of the folks I spent time with knew exactly how to put that little talent to good use. Not only that but this natural born talent made me feel needed and the nagging questions concerning my origins stopped being important to me and were soon forgotten altogether. What took their place was the desire to serve the community that raised me up. I swore to only use the skills that they helped me develop for our shared benefit and in gratitude for what was now my vastly diverse and almost always honorable “adopted family”.
My long term training began with lessons in persuasion but I was taught various other artful means necessary for the business of unlawful investigation, which I found out later was most often used by personal blackmailers or by spies looking to obtain proprietary information for either businesses or kingdoms at war. Other tricks of the trade I learned included: the use of shadows and the proper attire and movements in order to sneak around unnoticed when I needed to; the ability to “pop” locks and the correct use and maintenance of various tools to make such work a snap while also being able to detect and disarm a good many mechanical traps; I also learned the subtle art of “quick fingers” for stowing a prized possession or for concealing a small weapon in one of my many pockets within pockets within pockets and lastly, although I’m not too fond of doing it as it requires me to be somebody I’m not, is I learned to work up a quick but brilliant disguise if my own natural charm either wasn’t appropriate or wasn’t sufficient enough to crack open a particularly tight lipped oyster. Not all highway men are brutish types but when you’re part of this gang, training in the use of various weapons and skills to defend yourself was a must and so I learned to damage an enemy from both close and distant ranges. If I have the choice I’ll almost always use non lethal force to knock a foe unconscious so I can quickly and quietly get what I came for or get to whoever I came for. Really, why must I get the blood of a score of goons on my hands when It’s just their boss with the information I’m after? Nevertheless, a good deal of my training was focused specifically on the anatomy to locate vulnerabilities when they become unprotected and then how to deliver a critical blow.
For several years I was a field agent and it was my job primarily to locate, procure, abscond and keep safe all sorts of various bits of information for my handlers who worked with the fences within our organization. I was always exploring new and innovative ways to do my job in order to keep them fresh and exciting but most of the information acquired tended not to interest me much. Most of it really held no interest to anyone save the client and the other soon to be blackmailed party. The jobs will almost always pay off in other ways besides just the information we’re gathering. Typically those with important information also tend to have chests and drawers filled with all sorts of shiny, glittery subjects of interest. All this treasure just sitting there locked up and hidden away for no one to see and only one such selfish bloke to use. It’s not right and so they need to be taught a lesson in sharing.
We won’t take any imprudent risks and always put in all the leg work and planning necessary so that when we do a job we pull off only the most perfectly performed capers we can. We’re very professional and we won’t let the jobs become too personal. In fact, the way my mindset was nurtured I don’t really consider myself stealing things so much as providing a service to those with obscene wealth the gift of learning how to not become too attached to things. I believe “Here today, gone tomorrow.” and “This too shall pass.” are not so much wise cliches of non-attachment but the values of living free from the burden of over abundance. Most of our marks will sadly go through all the typical stages of victim recovery (anger, paranoia, desire for revenge) but I like to think that they come out on the other side of it all feeling a good deal freer than they were before. I’m sure many in fact do feel unburdened once when they realize that all the stuff including their most guarded dark secrets that they had hidden and locked away were not really so valuable after all, but actually only served to cover up their deep seeded fears of lack. Who knows, but several of my past marks may actually be grateful now that they have so little left in need of defense and perhaps even thank me for relieving them of those burdens (those fears). Best to just assume the truth of that rather than start an inquiry. I guess that’s one bit of knowledge I really don’t need and should just as soon forget.
The market for our kind of work occasionally dries up and for months now the once steady stream of clients we had became not even so much as a trickle, so my gang’s hub in the greater city network decided to temporarily close up shop and seek for some work on our own. “On our own” is not quite correct though because we’ve always got friends everywhere and anytime they’re needed. Whisper in the wind our clarion signals, flash our secretive signs and/or mark up the walls with the graffiti only we can understand and your help will soon arrive.
It’s only been a few days now since our little joy club disbanded but I’ve already laid the ground work by putting out several feelers to those who could hit me up when they know of some interesting and profitable work where my particular talents are needed. It always does and it never takes too long. Be happy Badger is here!